Crossing The Ocean
by 1 Ninja Girl
Summary: Harm and Mac together again, after tragedy, what's next for our favorite aviator turned lawyer and his marine? They'll have to make some important decisions if they're going to stay together.
1. Tuesday, August 21, 2007

**Chapter 1: The Talk**

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Author's Note: Harm and Mac are back, by popular demand. This is intended to be a sequel to my previously posted_ An Ocean, Two Continents, Eight Time Zones, And Heartache between Them. _If you haven't read it, I strongly recommend you do before starting this one as certain parts of this story may not otherwise make sense. Like _An Ocean…_ This will be a multi-chapter story. Fasten your seatbelts, and return your tray tables to their upright positions. Something tells me this may be a very eventful flight!

Disclaimer: Does anyone really need me to say it? Okay, here goes. I don't own JAG, its characters, or much of anything else but I hope you like this story anyway.

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Tuesday, August 21, 2007

San Diego California

Sarah Mackenzie wakes to the aroma of strong coffee brewing and food; not just food, breakfast meats. He hates meat, she thinks. With a lazy smile, she stretches languidly before tossing off the covers. Once she has both feet on the floor, clad only in an oversized night shirt, she shuffles toward the kitchen rubbing her face. For a moment, she leans against the door frame with her arms folded over her chest, just watching him. He's standing barefoot and bare-chested in front of her stove, wearing only the khaki cargo pants he wore the previous day. He is cooking food that he will not eat.

Crossing the room, she wraps her arms around him from behind. Standing on tiptoe, she kisses his shoulder and then glances over it at the sausage flying in the pan. He also has eggs and hash browns going on the stove, and cantaloupe and honeydew melon already partially sliced on a cutting board nearby.

"God, I've missed you."

Harmon Rabb chuckles, "Morning. Was it really me you missed, or just having somebody around to feed you." He asks, caressing the hand that is splayed across his chest.

"Harm you're the only person who has fed me in… Both, I missed both you and the food." She picks up his coffee cup from the countertop beside him and takes a sip. "Hey squid, your coffee's improving. She glances out the window at the pre-dawn sky, takes a few more sips and then returns his cup to its place. "What time is it anyway?" she asks, moving to the cabinet to get some plates.

"It's 0540, and get your own cup jarhead."

"God Harm, why are you up this early? Aren't you on leave?"

"I'm up because I knew you would… Wait a minute! Did you just ask me what time it is? What's the matter? Does your internal clock need new batteries?"

As she passes him, on her way to the table, she gently nudges him with a hip. "I think you fried its circuits."

"Oh really? And just how did I do that."

Setting the table, she shrugs and confesses playfully. "I always lose track of time after a good tumble." She offers him a flirtatious smile when he turns away from the stove to give her an inquiring look. "But it's never been out of commission for this long. It's usually brief; maybe 15-20 minutes, tops."

"I didn't know that." He says. I didn't think anything could make you lose track of time."

"Well, it wasn't something you needed to know… at least not before last night." She tells him; her playfulness becoming a pout.

"Something wrong?"

"I guess not. Not really. It's just that it's starting to make me a little uncomfortable. I've known what time it is every second of the day since I was nine years old. This is a little disconcerting. I'm going to need a watch today if it doesn't reset itself soon."

Stepping close behind her, he sets a platter of scrambled eggs and toast on the table, and then wraps his arms around her. "Here." He says, taking off his own watch and fastening it around her wrist.

She stares at the big watch. On her smaller wrist, it's loose and clunky but it makes her smile. "Now you aren't going to know what time it is."

He shrugs. "Don't need to. I am on leave." He says just before a quick kiss.

"Until when?"

"Through Saturday evening."

"Maybe I can take a few days, but not the whole week… Actually I probably should. I have a feeling it's going to be a tough week. I need to prep for Laura's placement hearing." She says referring to her niece; whom she hopes to obtain custody of. "I need to visit with her doctors, her therapist, and her former school teachers…" she pauses to offer him a smile. If I'd known you were coming before 1700 yesterday, I would've already asked for the time. I'm sorry you arrived in the middle of all this Harm… But I'm not sorry you're here." She adds softly.

"I wish I'd gotten here sooner." He says with regret.

"You're here now."

"I guess we need to talk about that."

She nods. "We do. I don't want this to be… Just some thing we did."

"Me either."

"So what are we going to do about that?" she asks nervously.

He shrugs. "I could request to transfer. We might have to wait for an opening, or it might be denied. But it might at least get me back to the States. Here, sit." He pulls out a chair for her. "Let's eat."

Mac's eyes go wide. "You'd do that?" she asks sliding into the chair.

He nods while going to get a bowl from a cabinet for the melon slices. "I hate London anyway." He says returning to the table with the bowl full and taking the seat next to her.

"Really?" she helps herself to a slice of cantaloupe.

"It rains almost every damn day Mac. I guess it's okay to visit, but living there sucks."

"Don't you like your job?"

Picking up his coffee, he nods, but there's a slight hesitation in it. "Or I would, if I weren't so damn miserable." He smiles awkwardly over the rim of the cup before admitting, "I like being the guy in charge, but it would be a lot better if I had somebody there to share it with." He pauses for a sip. "And, did I mention, I hate London."

"Maybe you can have my job. I hate being the guy in charge." She tells him quietly while busying herself with putting food on their plates.

He sets down his coffee cup. More than a little shocked by the admission, he waits until her hands are free and then takes one and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm bored silly." She admits, meeting his eyes." Sitting behind a desk doing prep work for trial is one thing. Sitting behind a desk giving orders while watching everybody else do the prep work for trial is driving me nuts Harm. I miss the work. I miss the courtroom, the arguing, the debating, the investigation… I feel like I don't do anything anymore; except referee large children who happen to wear uniforms. I hate it."

"So, I'm not the only one who needs a change."

"No, you're not. I mean, I still love being a Marine and I need to work but…"

"But what Mac."

Well, the thought of not being a Marine anymore, let's just say it's not as scary as it used to be."

"Really?"

"Harm, I'm a Colonel. I think we both know that's my exit rank. They aren't going to make somebody like me a Brigadier General; and I don't even think I want to be one. Have you seen the women with that rank? If I wanted it, that would be one thing, but there are other things I want."

"Like what Mac."

"I wish I had more time to give to Laura, and having her with me; loving her. It just makes me feel like I'm wasting precious time. I'm not getting any younger Harm. "With that and the endometriosis… Harm, I'm scared it won't work. Actually I'm not scared; I'm terrified. I still want to try though." She closes her eyes. "With things the way they were between us; I thought I had lost that option. A couple of times over the last two years, I thought about… Trying to find…a donor ... I guess. But I couldn't do it. Even thinking about it just felt wrong. It felt like; like I was giving up on you. I didn't want to do that. I started to get on a plane so many times." She opens her eyes wide, afraid that she has said something wrong, and she reaches out to gently touch his face. "Not just because of that Harm."

He takes her hand in both of his and kisses it. "What stopped you?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me. Not after what happened. People who are grieving are capable of terrific and terrible things. I know that. I never should have left you."

"I shouldn't have made you want to leave. We're here now though. I'd rather focus on where we go from here than watch you continue to beat yourself up. Besides, if you hadn't come here…"

"I know. No Laura." She squints at him. "You sure you want to get involved in all this. I can't leave her behind Harm, and this may not go well. You've been through all this before; custody I mean. You don't have to do this; not again."

He's quiet for a long moment; choosing his words carefully. "No Mac, I don't want to go through all this again… But I will. I know you can't leave her behind. If you were the sort of woman who could, I wouldn't want anything to do with you. So, I'm here. I'm here, and we'll figure it out...together. We have to focus on Laura first. Once we get clear of the custody thing, then we can figure out the address thing."

"The address thing?" she smiles; feeling a little better.

"Yeah, the address thing. As in, there's an ocean between yours and mine. I don't like that Mac. I don't like that at all! Whether you go there, I come here, or we both go someplace else; I don't know the answer yet but there has to be one."

"Okay, Laura first. Then the address thing." She nods, picking up her fork.

"That should keep as both busy for awhile, and we can't really do much of anything about the baby thing with the Atlantic between our mailboxes."

She laughs, "You've got a point there sailor!"

"Good, we're in agreement then. Hey, this is sort of unprecedented."

"Sort of unprecedented? Harm, I think I just felt the Earth shift on its axis."

"Yeah yeah, eat your eggs Marine. You've got to go to work."

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Author's Note: You took the time to read it. Take another moment to say what you think. Reviews feed the muse. Thanks!

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**Chapter 2: An Unofficial Staff Meeting**

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Author's Note: Just a short chapter tonight. I spend the afternoon at my parents' house catching up with family and laughing. After a big plate of spaghetti and two glasses of wine I'm more than ready to call it a night. Wishing all of my readers, sweet dreams.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters, blah blah blah! Y'all know the drill.

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Tuesday, August 21, 2007

0645 HRS

San Diego California

Petty Officer Jennifer Coates is somewhat disappointed to step off the elevator into the bullpen and realize that her commanding officer is already in her office. Nevertheless, she goes to the break room to start a pot of coffee and finds that the task has already been done. She pours a cup for herself and a second cup. She carries both with her to the Colonel's doorway.

"Good morning Colonel, fresh cup?"

"Good morning Coates, and yes; thank you."

The Petty Officer enters the office, finds a clear spot on her superior's desk for the two cups and then stands at attention.

"At ease. Have a seat. Is something the matter? You look…disenchanted." Mac says.

The junior officer replaces Mac's first cup of coffee with the second and then picks up her own cup before taking the offered seat on the other side of Mac's desk.

"I guess I just didn't expect you to be in quite this early Ma'am. Does that mean you are unable to find Captain Rabb yesterday?"

"Quite the opposite. He was walking on the beach when I got home. That's why I was able to be here so early this morning."

"I don't follow Ma'am."

"I didn't have to take Laura to the Harrell's this morning. I woke her at 0600, same as usual and started getting her ready for the day. However, she and Captain Rabb became instant pals last night. He called her sweetheart. She called him Flyboy when I introduced them, and then before dinner, she called him weird. She absolutely refused to even consider leaving the house today. Normally she likes spending the day with Liam and his mother, but she informed me this morning in no uncertain terms that she was spending her day with Harm. Of course, he didn't say no."

Coates flashes a smile fit for a toothpaste commercial "Of course not. The Captain; refuse to spend the day with a pretty girl? It would take a lot more then mild insults to stop him. Why did she call him weird?"

"While I was setting the table for dinner last night, we were having pot roast. Fortunately, I had some leftover broccoli cheese soup in the fridge. I warmed it in the microwave and put it on the table for Harm. Laura thought I intended to serve it along with her pot roast. This caused a minor fuss. There are quite a few vegetables she will eat, but broccoli isn't one of them. The conversation started with, "Ew yuck! Aunt Mac, I'm not eating that! When I explained that it wasn't for her; that it was for Harm and that he rarely eats meat; I thought she'd swallow her teeth!" Mac imitates the small girl "You don't eat meat! Really? Oh man, something's wrong with you! You're weird! Typical Harm, he took it all in stride. As soon as she said it, she covered her mouth, like she hadn't meant to say it out loud. Next thing she knew, she was hanging upside down with her knees over one of Harm's shoulders and he was tickling her; telling her that she was the weird one because he wasn't the one hanging upside down like a monkey. This morning, I did manage to get her out of her pajamas and into some clothes before I left, but that was it. When I left, she was sitting on the kitchen counter telling Harm how to fix her breakfast properly."

Coates raises an eyebrow, "How to fix it properly?" she asks; stressing the last word in the question."

Mac chuckles. "Yeah, she's a little OCD about eggs. It's sort of weird. She's not this way about other foods; but she cannot stand for her eggs to touch anything else on the plate. In fact, it's best if you just put her eggs on a separate plate by themselves; and when I left she was telling him this in great detail."

"What's he have to say about all this?"

"Not one word; nary a complaint. I swear Jen, if the girl told him the moon was made of split pea soup he would smile and nod. They've known each other for just slightly over 12 hours and already he is wrapped so tightly around her tiny little finger…"

"Sounds just like the Captain, and I'm glad for it too. We rarely talk anymore. I think I remind him of Mattie, or at least of the fact that she's not here anymore. Maybe Laura will help ease his grief."

"I hope so. It's been two years, and he's still not quite the way he was before. The difference is almost intangible, it's hard to put your finger on it, hard to define it; but it's there and I suspect it always will be."

"Yes, I agree. I've never lost anyone that really mattered to me except for Mattie and I still feel different than I used to be… Well…" she says needing a break from the depressing turn in the conversation. "The gang will start arriving soon. I guess we better get it in gear."

"Yes, we should. Let's see, we've got a staff meeting at 0830. I've got a ton of paperwork that needs to be done before lunch, phone calls I need to make, and then after lunch. I'll need to start securing my office for the rest of the week. I'm leaving at noon tomorrow in order to prep for Laura's placement hearing and spend some time with Harm. He leaves on Saturday.

"Ma'am would it be okay if I drop by some time later this week just to say hello?"

"Of course you can. You can come by for dinner on Friday night. Or, if you like, you could make your own plans with him this afternoon. He and Laura are picking me up for lunch at 1230."

"It'll be nice to see him again." The Petty Officer smiles at the thought and then she sighs, "And another day begins. I'll be at my desk if you need anything Colonel." She says wistfully, standing again at attention and waiting to be dismissed.

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Author's Note: You took the time to read it. Take another moment to say what you think. Reviews feed the muse. Thanks!

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**Chapter 3: Causing Heads to Turn**

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Author's Note: I'm just not ready for the seriousness of lunch yet.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters, blah blah blah! Y'all know the drill.

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Tuesday, August 21, 2007

1238 HRS

San Diego California

Even without glancing out her window, she knows he has arrived when an unnatural hush falls over the bullpen outside her office. The usual workplace noises, scraping chair legs against the floor, file cabinet drawers opening and closing and the incessant hum of quiet conversation, all come to an abrupt halt. Getting up from her desk with a smile she thinks; leave it to Harm to bring productivity to a complete standstill. When she opens her door she herself is struck momentarily immobile and silent by the sight of him crossing the room with her niece tucked safely in the curve of one arm and her walker in the opposite hand. Speechless, Mac watches her office staff watch him. It's her own fault, she thinks. They might be less inclined to stare if anyone at all had come to visit her at the office over the last two years. She watches as Jennifer Coates offers him a reserved but warm greeting. If anything, the woman's professional manner, in spite of her obvious affection for the man causes office personnel who do not know him to become that much more interested. Coates pretends not to notice this as she says hello to Laura and the small girl gives her a hug without ever leaving Harm's embrace.

The Petty Officer offers a quiet "Right this way, Sir." just as Laura catches sight of Mac.

"Aunt Mac, we're here!" Laura proclaims with delight.

"So I see. Come in." Mac chuckles stepping back into the office and clearing the doorway for them.

Coates walks with them as far as the office door and then quietly closes it behind them. Turning to face the room, and realizing that all eyes are on the Colonel's door, she hisses "Oh go back to work people! I know you've all seen the Colonel's niece before. Honestly, stop acting like you've never seen a naval aviator before!"

Inside the office, Harm grins and Mac bites her lower lip to keep from laughing loud enough to be heard outside.

"Some of them wouldn't have known that I'm a naval aviator if she hadn't just told them." He says gesturing toward his own tee shirt and jeans.

"It's just as well. If you walked in here clad in summer whites complete with gold wings we might have had to break out the smelling salts for Lieutenant Angelo out there. She's got a thing for pilots."

Laura observes the exchange between the two adults, looks down at the floor, and then gives Harm's shirt sleeve an insistence tug. When he turns his attention to her, she smiles and says simply, "Down please!"

He sets her walker down and then lowers her feet to the floor waiting for her to take hold of the walker before he lets go. No sooner than she is on her own she looks up at Mac. "Aunt Mac, can you please fix my hair before we go to lunch?"

The Marine eyes the girl's lopsided messy ponytail and swallows the impulse to smile." Sure baby. I can fix that for you. Did Harm do that for you?"

Laura nods as Mac retrieves a small handbag from the top of a file cabinet and steps behind her desk; returning to her seat. "I thought you said he had a daughter."

"He did." Mac assures quietly; offering Harm a sympathetic smile.

"Well she must have had short hair because he doesn't know nothing about doing ponytails."

"Come here Laura." Mac says gesturing for the girl to come close enough so that she can take care of her hair. When she is close enough, Mac guides her into position to stand just between her knees so that she can not only reach her, but help hold her in place as well. "First Laura, the proper way to say that is, he doesn't know anything about doing ponytails – not he doesn't know nothing; and second, even if he doesn't, you should still tell Harm thank you. At least he tried."

Mac begins to untangle the ponytail holder and various barrettes in Laura's hair. "I imagine he's never done this before. By the time he and Mattie found each other she was old enough to do her own hair. Just be glad he's not your grandfather." Thinking, Mac is silent for a moment before she says, "I think I was a little younger than you are the one and only time my dad ever tried to do my hair. I can't remember where Mom was that morning. All I do remember is that when she returned, he told her she was never allowed to leave again without either fixing my hair or taking me with her until I was old enough to do my own hair; and he never touched my head again. He snapped the rubber band against his own fingers and when it hurt he yelled at me like it was my fault." Mac hands her the dislodged ponytail holder.

Harm stands by, observing without comment as Mac removes a small hairbrush from the handbag along with a small plastic baggie filled with hair accessories, and a very small spray bottle of some sort. She doesn't even try to pull the brush through the girl's thick unruly curls without first misting her hair with whatever is contained in the bottle. Mac then tries to comb her fingers through the girl's hair gently. When she can't get her fingers through the entire length of Laura's hair without pulling it, she repeats the process two more times until she can slide her fingers through with relative ease. Then she applies the hairbrush to good use; starting at the ends of Laura's hair and working her way up to her scalp.

"Well that's dumb!" Laura says with feeling. "Everybody knows you're not supposed to put rubber bands in hair. They pull your hair out when you take them out at night. You're supposed to use a ponytail holder, and anyway, he shouldn't yell at you if he popped his own fingers."

"Baby, when I was a little girl rubber bands were the only ponytail holders there were."

"I don't care." Laura shrugs, "That's still not a nice thing to do Aunt Mac. Harm didn't yell at me, and he didn't pull my hair much either. Course, he stopped trying to brush it. Mom never uses the conditioner stuff. She always pulls my hair. "

"Yeah, the conditioner is nice; isn't it? My hair use to be a lot like yours. Your grandmother use to pull my hair." Mac sympathizes; running the brush through one last time and reaching over Laura's shoulder for the ponytail holder.

Mac winds the ponytail holder around the thick length of hair and gives Laura's new ponytail a gentle tug to make certain the soft band of fabric is in place. "About face kiddo." She says, helping to guide the girl again as she turns. She glances at the numerous barrettes now on her desktop, with Laura's hair done properly, she'll only need a fraction of those Harm had used. "Butterflies or lizards?"

Laura looks at the barrettes and then at the bright rainbow-colored butterfly screen-printed onto her tee shirt. "Lizards!" Laura announces happily, leaving Harm in a state of mild confusion. He had expected her to select the other choice. Mac, on the other hand, doesn't seem surprised at all.

Girls! He thinks. He still doesn't have them figured out, and he doubts he ever will. He continues to watch as Mac selects two small gecko shaped barrettes and uses them to secure small wisps of hair that are too short to be secured by the ponytail holder.

"There. All done!" Mac announces. Sweeping the unneeded accessories into the plastic baggie and returning it, the hairbrush, and the small bottle of conditioner back to her handbag. "You look gorgeous! Now let's go get some lunch! The only thing I've had since breakfast is coffee. I'm starving, and I know you are!"

"Hamburgers?" Laura wants to know.

"No, I don't feel like going through a drive-thru window and eating in the car. Let's go someplace where we can go in, sit down, and relax. I have important things to tell both of you."

"Pizza?" Laura tries again hopefully, looking up and back at her aunt as Mac gently shoos her toward the office door which Harm opens for them and stands waiting for them to pass through.

Mac looks at Harm inquiring. "Giovanni's Italian restaurant has the best pizza in town, and if you want, she can get a personal pan and you can have whatever you prefer. There are things on the menu that you will like too."

"Mac, I like pizza." He laughs as if he's been wounded. "You know that."

"Not the way she eats it; you won't." Mac whispers passing by and resisting the urge to kiss him.

He alone catches the telltale flash of desire in her eyes and it piques his own. To let her know this, he places his fingertips gently against the small of her back as they walk through her bullpen toward the elevator. He smiles briefly but then rolls his eyes in response to her words. "Let me guess; dead animal?"

Mac nods. "Lots of it; and jalapenos too." She tells him."

"Jalapenos! Mac! You let her eat that? She's just a little girl!"

"With a cast iron gut!" Mac answers; chuckling quietly.

The elevator dings upon its arrival and the doors slide open. Once they are inside and the doors slide shut again, Jennifer Coates shakes her head smiling in response to the nearly imperceptible changes in the couple's body language. "Well, it's about damn time!" she muses silently.

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Author's Note: You took the time to read it. Take another moment to say what you think. Reviews feed the muse. Thanks!

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**Chapter 4: Lunch**

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Author's Note: This chapter was more fun to write than I expected. I hope y'all like it too. To my reader known as Steamboat - I love all your reviews and comments, but the respond option is grayed out for you. Many thanks to you for all your appreciation. You, and all my readers make the creative process such a joy!

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters, blah blah blah! All the usual jargon goes here.

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Tuesday, August 21, 2007

1258 HRS

San Diego California

Giovanni's Italian Restaurant

Giovanni's is the kind of dimly lit place with scarred wooden tables and chairs where people dine in jeans and sandals. The tablecloths are plastic with red and white checkered patterns and the candles on each table do little to illuminate the place. What it lacks in ambiance the food more than makes up for. Mac loves the cream of tomato soup with garlic and basil. The Pizza Margherita, and any of the numerous pasta dishes she has tried have all been worthy of a second serving.

After waiting for Laura climb in, she slides into the booth across the table from Harm. The moment they are seated a server is standing by with chilled glasses of water, menus, and a basket of bread slices lightly drizzled with olive oil and garlic.

Mac holds conversation until after the college-age waitress takes their drink orders and then she watches, amused as the girl flashes Harm a flirtatious smile before leaving their table.

"What?" he rolls his eyes in response to Mac's obvious enjoyment.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

"It's just interesting; that's all. She's not the first woman I've seen smile at you like that. She won't be the last. But I've never seen it from this perspective before."

"What perspective is that?"

"The perspective of a woman who knows what that girl is missing. It's sort of fun. That's all." She declares with spunk.

"Oh okay." He grins. "Long as you're having fun."

Mac switches gears as he leans back; propping his left arm on the back of the booth he is sitting in. "If you want pasta I'll let you check the menu yourself. I haven't tried them all yet. But if you want pizza, we should get the Pizza Margherita. You'll love it. It's a whole wheat crust, with sun dried tomatoes, basil, garlic, and cheese. That's it; and it's fabulous. It doesn't even need any dead animal on it." She'd teases with a smile. "And the cream of tomato soup…" she sighs happily.

Harm chuckles quietly. "You like this place."

She nods. "Best pizza I've eaten; ever!" I only wish they delivered. They'd put Dominoes and Pizza Hut out of business; permanently."

Laura wiggles around in the seat beside Mac until she is on her knees and reaching for the basket of bread. Mac moves her glass of water to avoid any spelling accident and then places a few small pieces of bread on a saucer in front of her rather than allowing her to continually reach for the basket. "I want the Bambino." The girl chimes in, "with everything on it. Well, almost everything. Everything; except the little fishes." She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

"The Bambino?" Harm grins. "Baby pizza?"

"That's just the name they gave it." Mac replies. "Don't ask me why. It's not a kid's special. It comes in the same sizes as any other pizza served here. With the exception that it tastes 10 times better, it's basically the equivalent of a Pizza Hut Super Supreme with jalapenos and anchovies added. She will eat a personal pan all by herself in spite of the fact that it's about ¼ bigger than the same pizza anywhere else.

Harm smiles at Laura. "That's an awful lot of pizza for such a little tummy."

"I won't waste it." She assures.

The server comes back with drinks for them and flashes Harm another dazzling smile. "Ready to order?"

With the slight nod of his head, Harm defers to Mac.

"Pizza?" she asks him. When he nods again she orders Laura's personal pan, an extra large Pizza Margherita and two large bowls of the tomato soup. As an afterthought, she tells the girl to hold the anchovies on the smaller pizza.

Telling them that it will be about 25 minutes before their food arrives the perky server trots away again. When she is gone Harm asks, "So, what are these important things you have to tell us?"

"Yeah Aunt Mac; what's up?"

"Quite a lot. I spent much of the morning on the phone and not all of it was Marine Corps business. First, I work only until noon tomorrow. After that, I am on leave for the rest of the week. However, it's going to be an incredibly busy week. Laura, tomorrow afternoon you're going to go stay with the Harrell's for a little while. I have to go back to the trailer." Mac hesitates only briefly, deciding to start with the bad news first. "Mom told me she'd take care of the busted window. She called this morning to say she hasn't done that. It's more expensive than she expected it to be and she's worried about looters.

"What's looters?" Laura wants to know.

"Looters are people who steal things; usually from places that have been damaged and are left accessible to the public. It's easy to get in your mom's trailer because either she or Derek shattered the kitchen window; the big bay window. Mom said a neighbor put up some plywood, but that's not much of a deterrent in that neighborhood. I told Mom I'd pay for the window's replacement. Plus, she doesn't know the man who's coming to do the work and she doesn't want to be alone with him."

Harm frowns. "Why not? If she's afraid he's not reputable or that she won't be safe with him, then why hire him in the first place?"

"Probably because he gave her the lowest bid, and…" Mac pauses, unsure exactly how much Laura is aware of.

Seeming to sense that she is the reason for her aunt's hesitation, Laura supplies the answer herself. "Mimi's afraid of all men. She doesn't like to be alone with any of them."

Mac cringes; wishing, not for the first time, that her niece didn't understand such things. She gives Harm a slight nod. "Anyway, I told her I'll be there, and that I'll pay for it. Laura, give it some thought, if there's anything in the trailer that you want that I didn't get the last time I was there let me know before tomorrow afternoon.

Laura nods; munching a small piece of bread.

"Really think about it okay baby. After tomorrow, I don't want to go back there." Mac says quietly; crossing her arms over her chest as a sudden chill that has nothing to do with the temperature invades her body.

Laura nods again but does not comment, and she looses interest in her bread.

"Want me to come with you?" Harm asks softly; sensing the shift in moods across the table from him.

"Yes. No. I don't know." Mac answers awkwardly. "I've been there twice in the last four days. I don't want to go back there, but it has to be none. If you're with me it might make it easier for me. It might make it worse. I don't know which Harm."

"How could it make it worse?" he asks tenderly.

"Knowing about my past is one thing Harm. Seeing an actual example of it" she sighs. "I want to keep that away from you as much as I want to keep it away from Laura. Having you there, it may not be the balm you think it will."

"Mac." Harm reaches out for her hand and waits for her to offer it before he says quietly, "It can't be any worse than seeing you…" he pauses to look at Laura. "After Lowne died." He chooses carefully. "And I'm still here. You didn't scare me off then, and you're not going to now."

She fidgets uncomfortably in her seat. For a long moment she says nothing, but finally she nods and swallows. "Okay. You can come."

"Good. What else?"

"I also have appointments tomorrow evening to talk with two of Laura's former teachers. I'm hoping to gather information that'll be useful in her placement hearing. Thursday morning, I'm meeting with her pediatrician. After that, I have a meeting with her physical therapist, Charlie Waters."

"You're going to see Charlie?" Laura asks suddenly brightening up."

"I am, and you're coming with me. We're going to talk about starting your therapy again, and we're going to talk to an orthopedist about getting you a new brace; one that fits correctly."

"Yay!" Laura cheers.

"Friday, right before lunch, we have your placement hearing, so over the next couple of days, after dinner, I'll need to focus on that for a while. Other than that, in the evenings, we're going to spend as much time as possible with Harm because he's only here until Saturday evening."

"Where's he going?" Laura asks, suddenly worried.

"He has to go home. He has to go back to London."

"Why? You guys made up a right? You not mad anymore; you're not even sad Aunt Mac."

"Yes, we made up, and no, I'm not sad anymore; but Harm is the Force Judge Advocate in Europe. He's in the Navy baby. He has to go to work; the same as I do."

Laura folds her arms over her small chest and pouts. "The Navy sucks!"

Mac hugs her gently. "No it doesn't, not really sweetie." She whispers. "The Navy does good things; just like the Marine Corps does. Besides, Harm and I have talked about that and we want to be together. Harm's going to see about a transfer."

The scowl on her face is softened a bit by curiosity. "What's that mean?"

"He's going to ask if the Navy will move him back to the U.S."

"Is he coming here?"

"Maybe; maybe not. We don't know yet. We have to wait and see. We'll work it out somehow."

"Aunt Mac can't you just give him a job at your office." The little girl asks hopefully; bringing a smile to the faces of both adults.

"No, Laura. I can't do that."

"Why not?" she frowns. "Navy people work there. I've seen lots of them. Jen works there."

"Yes, you're right, she does; but Harm and I are in a relationship or at least, we're trying to be. People in a relationship can't work in the same office in the military and he certainly can't work for me. That would get us both court martialed."

"What's court martialed?"

"Really big trouble; really really big. It means you messed up really bad!"

"Like being grounded?"

"Worse. Like lose your job and maybe go to jail. "

The little girl's eyes go wide. "Harm, you can't have a job with Aunt Mac; no way!" she declares adamantly. "But you guys need to figure something out, cuz I like him. I wanna keep him!" she whines

Harm laughs and Mac tries to keep a straight face but fails dismally. Between spurts of laughter she manages to choke out, "Laura… he's not… a… puppy.

Completely serious, the little girl doesn't understand their laughter. "It's not funny. I'm serious! And anyway, you know what I mean Aunt Mac."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Mac kisses the top of her head and whispers, "I wanna keep him too. We'll figure something out. Won't we Harm?"

"You bet we will. It might take us a while Laura. But your aunt and I, well - we've known each other for a long time and we're tired of being apart. It took us awhile to get here, but we're ready to be together. The last two years haven't been any fun at all because I missed her so much, but we're gonna fix it okay… And we've got until Saturday evening. That's four whole days. So cheer up. No sad faces today. Besides, look, here comes the pizza."

"Yummy! I'm starving!" she declares happily.

"Yeah, I thought that might perk you up a bit." Harm chuckles.

Once the food has been delivered and they are alone at their table again, Harm puts a few slices of their pizza on his own plate and then Mac's as she tends to Laura's plate.

"Careful baby. It's hot! Let it cool for a minute." She instructs Laura, impatient to dig in herself. The zesty aroma of pizza makes her empty stomach grumble.

Harm watches her tuck a napkin into the collar of Laura's shirt. "Let it cool." She says again as Laura tries to pick up a slice; dripping hot cheese over her fingers. "And try not to make a mess kiddo. You want me to cut it up?"

Laura shakes her head with vigor. "Aunt Mac, it's pizza! You're not supposed to cut it up!"

"Okay. Have it your way. And you Flyboy, what are you smiling at?"

"You. You're really good at this."

"Good at what?" Mac asks absent-mindedly a second before she catches his meaning. "Oh. What this? I don't know. Maybe. You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"What's she good at?" Laura wants to know as she happily picks pepperoni off the top of her pizza pulling melted cheese with it all the way to her mouth.

"Being Aunt Mac." Harm answers with a wink.

"Duh! Course she's good at it. She _is_ Aunt Mac!"

"Laura, I wish you wouldn't use that word."

"What word?"

"Duh… I'm not even sure that technically qualifies as a word."

"Why shouldn't I use it?"

"Because you're much more intelligent than that word indicates. It makes you sound uneducated."

"Hey I'm smart!"

"I know you are. That's my whole point. You are a very smart little girl. You should sound like one too."

"Oh okay." Laura answers before a bite of pizza. "I'll try not to anymore, but that might be hard to remember Aunt Mac." She mumbles around her mouthful of food.

Mac smiles at her. "And swallow before you speak, don't talk with your mouth full." She says gently poking the girl in the ribs

Harm takes a bite of pizza hoping to conceal the fact that he is very nearly laughing.

"Oh… now you're laughing at me squid!" You find this amusing?"

Harm nods quietly, busy with his own mouthful. A moment later, as Mac finally gets a bite of her own, he wipes his mouth on a paper napkin before speaking. "You just reminded me that La Jolla is 20 minutes from here, and this is the first time I've been stateside in two years. If I leave the country without going to see my mother, when she finds out she'll do a lot worse than poke me in the ribs."

After a bite of soup and a sip of water, Mac answers, "Well then you better go see her, sailor."

He nods. "I'll call her and ask if lunchtime Saturday is okay… Come with me?"

For some reason, the simple invitation makes Mac nervous, but she hesitates only briefly before quietly saying, "Okay" with a gentle nod.

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Author's Note: You took the time to read it. Take another moment to say what you think. Reviews feed the muse. Thanks!


	2. Wednesday, August 22, 2007

**Chapter 5: Meeting Ms O'Hara**

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Author's Note: It has come to my attention that I seem to have given Mac a bump in pay grade. I think my assumption must have been that her promotion occurred at the same time that Harm moved from Commander to Captain. This probably happened because I was so discouraged by the final episode of JAG that I was not paying full attention. Because, I have already begun this story, not to mention written its predecessor, with her at the rank of Colonel, as opposed to Lieutenant Colonel, I will backtrack at some point in the future and write a piece explaining how and when her promotion occurred. Please dear readers, when you catch me doing things like this, as long as you are nice about it, it is perfectly okay for you to tell me so.

Also, just a quick word of warning, this chapter took an even darker turn that I was expecting. Please keep that in mind as you read. And as always, let me know what you think. Do you like it? If you hate it, it's OK to tell me that too.

Steamboat, When I said that the respond option in your reviews were "grayed out" all it means is that I can't respond to you via message like I can some other readers. I suspect that your private messaging feature within your account settings may be disabled. It is what allows authors to respond publicly or privately to your comments, as opposed to doing it here in the author's notes. 'grin' I'm not absolutely certain that is what causes the trouble; I'm just guessing. I can also tell you that I believe you are several hours behind me time-wise. You respond to posts almost daily, (thank you) but as I compose this note to you it is 0400 October 26, and chapter six is already written and posted. I got your most recently received review only moments ago and it is time stamped October 24, so I do suspect that there is a significant time difference between us. That may have something to do with the issue too.

Disclaimer: To the best of my knowledge DPB and the powers that be still own JAG. I don't. It's a pity, but I don't.

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Wednesday, August 22, 2007

1159 HRS

San Diego California

Outside the Joint Legal Services building

When her morning at the office is done, true to her word, Mac meets them outside at the curb. As she opens the front passenger door of Harm's rented SUV he flashes his customary grin. "Hey wait! You drive okay. You know where we're going. I don't."

She shrugs and reaches into the backseat and gives Laura an affectionate pat on the leg before stepping around the front of the vehicle. Harm steps out from behind the wheel and holds the door open; waiting for her. He is mildly surprised to find her wearing a woodland pattern BDU.

"Field trip today?" he asks lightly.

She shakes her head and steals a quick kiss before sliding in behind the wheel. When Harm climbs into the passenger seat she is busy saying hello to Laura and adjusting the seat to accommodate her shorter height. As she puts the vehicle into drive she tells him quietly, "No field trip, but given what we have to do this afternoon, I feel like I pulled combat duty. I changed in the ladies room a few minutes ago. I figure a little armor can't hurt."

"Armor?"

"This will go better for me if I dress for the part. It might help keep me in a better frame of mind; remind me how far I've come - that sort of thing. I wish I had thought of it Sunday."

Harm nods. "If it helps..."

She changes of subject. "You bring the things I asked for?"

"In the back; vacuum cleaner, cleaning supplies, toolkit. I've never seen a pink toolbox before Mac."

"It's not pink. The toolbox is black, the handle is pink,"

"So are the handles of the screwdrivers, the socket set, and the tape measure."

"You snooping through my tools Flyboy?" she raises an eyebrow playfully.

"Yeah, I guess I was. Like I said, I've never seen pink tools before."

"A local hardware store was selling them and giving a portion of the proceeds to the Susan G. Komen Foundation for breast cancer research. I figure every household needs a basic toolkit and why not donate to a worthy cause at the same time."

"Yeah, okay, but how many women buy toolkits?"

"A lot more than you think Harm." She tells him in that tone of voice she uses when she thinks he's being mildly inappropriate. "And a lot of the women who have dealt with breast cancer have boyfriends, husbands, fathers and sons who love them and who will gladly buy pink tools, or pink anything else in support of their women. Besides, you're the one who wanted to come along on this little excursion." She reminds him. "You should know, it's likely I'll put you to work with those pink tools. So suck it up squid!" Taking one hand off the wheel, she pats his thigh and offers him a sweet smile. "The trailer is a wreck. I didn't bother to clean anything up Sunday. I should have, but I just wanted out. With her bail denied, Casey won't be back there any time soon. Someone's got to clean the place up, and I imagine, as bad as it is for me, it'll only going to be worse for Mom. Besides, I don't think she can physically handle it."

"Laura, baby. Is there anything you want me to get out of the trailer for you? Last chance. After today, I'm not going back there."

"Um, see if you can find my backpack. I think it's in my closet. School starts again soon doesn't it?"

"It does. I will look for it, but backpacks are replaceable. Is there anything in there that isn't replaceable; like a favorite toy?"

"My doll, Rosie. She's hiding out in the closet too."

"That's kind of funny." Mac says trying to ignore the words 'hiding out.' I use to have a doll named Rosie. She went missing when I was a teenager. By then she was really just a keepsake, but it made me sad anyway."

"I know."

"Laura what you mean; you know?"

"Mimi gave her to me. She said she used to be yours."

For a moment, Mac is stunned. Then, wiping away a stubborn tear that refused not to fall, she nods. "Well I guess that explains why she went missing. She left with Mom." Mac whispers the last sentence.

Her quiet acknowledgment brings a pained look from the man in the front passenger seat. She offers him a stiff smile. Then, almost imperceptibly, she shakes her head. It is her way of indicating that he shouldn't acknowledge her distress - at least not with words.

For Laura's benefit, he keeps quiet.

From the backseat, the girl has limited awareness of her aunt's sorrow, but sensing it on some level; she says in a small voice, "You can have her back if you want."

The offer causes another willful tear to fall, but for an entirely different reason. "No baby. She's yours now, and I'm glad. You keep her. I'll find her and bring her back to you."

"You sure Aunt Mac?"

"I'm positive, and thank you for being such a sweet girl."

"You're welcome. I'm still going to Liam's right?"

"Yes, you are. Beth is going to take you two fishing while Harm and I take care of things at your mom's."

"Are we going in the boat or are we staying on the pier?"

Grateful for the change in subject, Mac answers. "I don't know. You'll have to wait and see."

"Probably the pier. Beth gets grouchy because Liam won't be still in the boat. Last time he almost fell in the water."

"Are you still in the boat?"

"Yes, but Beth makes me wear a dumb life jacket anyway."

"Good for Beth." Mac chuckles.

Pulling into Beth Harrell's driveway, Mac catches sight of the woman putting small fishing poles in the trunk of her car. "Okay kiddo. Looks like you're gonna have fun." Mac gets out of the SUV and waves at Beth as she opens the rear door to help Laura out while Harm goes to the rear of the vehicle to retrieve her walker and a small tote bag he packed for her from the cargo hold.

"Harm and I will be back to get you in a few hours. Please be good, wear your life jacket if you go in the boat, and your sunscreen even if you don't, and have lots of fun."

Beth Harrell approaches. "Oh good. You just in time Laura. Train's pulling out of the station in 5 minutes." She reaches for Laura's walker and tote bag and smiles at the unfamiliar man holding them. "Beth Harrell; I'm Liam's mom."

"Harmon Rabb." He says, handing over the tote bag and then shaking her hand before following it with the walker.

Beth studies him for a speculative moment and then turns her attention to Mac. "I think your sister lied to me. Either that, or she has a significant misconception of who you are Sarah." She chuckles.

The rear door of Beth's Honda opens and Liam calls out impatiently for Laura.

Smiling at the red headed freckle-faced the boy with big blue eyes, Mac walks his way with Laura in her arms as she responds to Beth's comment. "Neither possibility would surprise me." She says dryly. "What did she say?"

Beth glances at the children before speaking and then mentally edits the Marine's sister's choice of words. "Apparently she thinks you're - not all that into men."

Mac leans over to put Laura in the car next to Liam, fastens the girl's seat belt, and then, closing the door, she rolls her eyes for Harm's and Beth's benefit. "My sister thinks any woman who doesn't have three men at the same time is not 'that into men.' I like them. I really do. I especially like this one." Mac points her thumb in Harm's direction. "But he's plenty all by himself."

Beth glances Harm's way again and chortles. "Somehow Sarah, I don't doubt that."

Stepping to his side, and noticing that he looks a little uncomfortable, Mac takes his arm. "You did put sunscreen in Laura's bag?"

Harm nods. "It's in the front pocket along with some insect repellent."

"It sounds like she's all set." Beth comments; stowing Laura's things in the truck, and then heading for the driver's side door of her own car. "We'll be back at three." She waves; sliding behind the wheel and closing the door.

Mac moves Harm's rental to the end of Beth's narrow driveway, so that the other woman can pull out. When the old pale blue Honda is headed for the trailer park's exit she pulls into another narrow drive just three doors down on the left; drawing an inquisitive look from Harm. Getting out again, she smiles at him. "I guess I should've told you. They all live in the same trailer park. I don't want to park in Casey's driveway, and risk being blocked in if Derek shows up. Police had to release him, Casey refused to press charges."

He gets out, coming around to her side. "Well, who's is this."

"Mom's; she won't mind if we park here. Casey's is just across the street." Mac points.

Harm eyes the trailer across the winding street that is barely wide enough for two cars to pass side by side. From this angle, all he can discern about the trailer is that it is old and poorly cared for. The one at the end of the drive where he now stands is in only marginally better shape.

Mac reaches for his hand; giving it a gentle tug. "C'mon. I need the key. The guy coming to replace the window doesn't show up until 13:45. I want to start cleaning before he gets there, and finish up about the same time he leaves. Plus, I'd really like to have some downtime between this and meeting with Laura's teachers. I'm going to need time to clear my head, that or punch a hole in a wall." She admits grimly. "Let's get this over with."

Harm watches her square her shoulders and take a very deep breath. He's seen her do this countless times. It has always occurred just before those times when they knew they were about to place themselves in situations that might be dangerous or even life threatening. He realizes that she is mentally gearing up for the possibility of battle; and it pisses him off. Resisting the urge to clinch his teeth, he silently resents the fact - no, he despises the fact - that the simple act of knocking on her mother's front door has to be this hard for her.

She strides to the end of the drive and up onto the porch; head held high. She does knock, and long seconds later Harm is surprised by the woman who opens the door. He doesn't know what he expected, but whatever it was, the woman before him doesn't fit it. She is younger than he expected; though time has not been kind to her. She's also taller and heavier. Briefly, he wonders who Mac resembles. It certainly isn't her mother.

Before he can give the thought much consideration, the older woman starts to smile at Mac, but the smile falters at the sight of her attire. Harm watches her take in the fatigues and boots. Her sigh is audible. When her gaze shifts to him the smile that never quite graced her face becomes a frown.

Beside him, Mac tries to ignore all this. "Hi Mom. This is Harmon Rabb. He's going to help out across the street. I need the key." Mac gives his hand an affectionate squeeze. "Harm, this is Deanne O'Hara."

Harm offers to shake her hand, and she does finally manage a brittle smile as she steps back from the front door without accepting the gesture. "Come in, the key is somewhere in the kitchen. I think it's in the drawer by the phone."

It's clear to Harm that her mother's behavior bothers Mac a great deal, but it's also clear that she expected it. Stepping inside behind her, Harm pushes the door closed and follows the women from the small living room to an even smaller kitchen. On his way, he notices that although the place is somewhat shabby, it's very clean and orderly.

"You're earlier than I expected Sarah." Her mother says opening the aforementioned drawer.

"I know Mom. I want to clean up a bit before the window repairman gets there."

"Well that's nice you." She talks with her back to them; occasionally looking over her shoulder as she searches the drawer. "I suppose you're right. We shouldn't leave the place in shambles. Do you want some lemonade?"

"No Mom. We're okay."

"I hope you brought supplies. Your sister's not exactly a neat freak. I have no idea what she has over there in the way of household cleaners; probably not much."

"That's okay Mom. We've got it covered."

After several more seconds of rummaging through the drawer, she turns to face them; key in hand and offers it to Mac along with a sad shake of her head. "Sarah, I still don't understand how you can choose to put those clothes on every morning without being sick to your stomach."

As she takes the key her mother offers, Mac's voice sounds weary to Harm. "We've been through this before. My decision to join the Corps had nothing to do with Joe. It was Uncle Matt's influence that inspired the choice; not his."

"And I still don't know what your uncle was thinking…"

"Mom, don't go there. Leave Uncle Matt alone." she warns with deadly calm.

She plows on; without regard for her daughter's admonition

"I just can't fathom it; my own brother, encouraging such a choice. What possessed him to do this to you?"

Harm cringes as the fraying cord around Mac's tightly bound emotions finally snaps. Her voice has the same barely audible, dark tone of finality that it had two years ago when she'd walked out of his loft. "You know what Mom? This is the last time I am ever going to have this conversation with you. You lost the right to condemn Uncle Matt's influence over my life the day you decided to leave me behind. Instead of complaining about it, you should be grateful for it. If it weren't for him, I'd be sitting in a bar totally hammered right this very minute. I'd be a pathetic slobbering drunk instead of standing here in these clothes that you so obviously hate, because I gotta tell ya Mom, as much as I hate the person I was back then, as much as I don't ever want to be that person again, right now; a bar stool sounds like an absolutely awesome place to be compared to that hell hole over there across the street. It's just a little too much like the hell hole I grew up in. But here I am! What I can't figure out, is you left me with him to give yourself and Casey a chance at something better. She never spent a day in her life with him. She never had to be afraid that one day he was going to lose it and beat her to a bloody pulp. She never had to hear him tell her that she was a worthless good for nothing tramp. Not once. Not one day in her life did she ever have to hear that; and yet she's the one in jail for busting a carafe full of scalding hot coffee over the back of some cop's head. The guy's got second degree burns on his head, face, hands, and arms. He's probably permanently disfigured. And do you know why? Because he was trying to help her! He was trying to arrest the sorry excuse for a human being who was beating the hell out of her. She was with you, Mom. You; not Joe! So, if you can explain to me how her life has been better than mine, then you can say whatever you want about my damn clothes and my military commission and I'll listen to it all without another word. If you can't explain that to me, then I'll thank you to keep your opinions about my life to yourself!"

Deanne O'Hara stands mute and motionless; rooted to the floor as her daughter turns on her heel and stomps out of the kitchen, back through the living room, and slams the front door hard enough to rattle every window in the trailer.

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Author's Note: You took the time to read it. Take another moment to say what you think. Reviews feed the muse. Thanks!

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**Chapter 6: Two People Did All This?**

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Disclaimer: Really Again?

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Wednesday, August 22, 2007

1228 HRS

San Diego, California

Harm stands in Deanne O'Hara's kitchen with his back to the counter. Stunned, only for a beat in time, he's just as silent and motionless as she is. Unlike her though, he's able to recover much more quickly. He could chalk it up to the fact that he knows Mac so much better than her mother apparently does, and therefore, he was able to see what was coming. Unlike her, he saw the warning signs. He could just as equally chalk it up to a healthier sense of self. The woman before him can take little comfort in who she is or the choices she has made in life. Unable to answer her daughter's questions, or even response, she stares into the middle distance seeing nothing; at least nothing that Harm can see. He suspects that she's lost somewhere in her memories of the past.

It doesn't take more than a few seconds before the unnatural silence left in the wake of Mac's angry exit starts to make him uncomfortable. He starts to speak, then closes his mouth. He has no idea what to say to this lost woman. For a moment, he's tempted to reach out and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but suddenly something in her eyes shifts and she is present again. She shakes her head and steps further away from him. He wonders, had he moved? Had he approached her in some unconscious but significant way? Then he remembers Laura's words, "Mimi's afraid of all men."

He shakes his head at the thought of it. "Ma'am," He starts in a normal speaking voice, and then lowers his voice to little more than a whisper when she jumps. "I'm not going to stand here and pretend that I understand what Joseph Mackenzie did to you, but I think I do understand what he did to your daughter. What's more, I don't think you do. Maybe you can't see far enough passed your own hurt to even consider hers. I don't think you know how hard she's worked to get to where she is in life, but I can tell you that if you hope to have any kind of peace in your relationship with her at all, then you have got to stop punishing her for what he did to you. Not every person in a military uniform is out to get you."

He stands still for just a moment longer and he watches her stare at him. His words obviously confuse her. It's as if she's not even aware of her own actions or biases.

"Excuse me." He whispers and calmly leaves the room.

By the time he catches up with Mac, her vacuum cleaner and toolkit with the bright pink handle are already on her sister's front porch. She has returned to the SUV to get the large plastic tote full of cleaning supplies. He watches her carry it to the porch as he crosses the street and then she returns to the car again for the mop, broom, bucket, and long handled dust pan. She moves with rigid posture and with angry, ground-eating strides. She jams the business ends of the mop and broom into the bucket and then, instead of picking it up, she turns and slouches dejectedly against the rear bumper of the vehicle.

Sprinting to her side, he sits down on the bumper beside her. Without touching her, he sits quietly and stares at the aging trailer with the boarded up kitchen window and the barely existent front lawn with its wide brown patches and sparse green grass. He stares at an object lying in one of the few green patches of grass about 8 feet from the covered window. It shouldn't be there. He doesn't really know what to say so, for a time, he says nothing at all. Then a thought occurs to him. He puts an arm around her shoulders. "You really want to go in there? I could take down the plywood. Then you could just toss a lit match through the busted kitchen window and be done with it." He offers; trying to sound serious.

At first she doesn't even look at him. After a few long seconds she does wrinkle her brow, and then finally she slowly turns her head to stare at him incredulously.

"Mac, I'm serious." He jokes. "Look at that thing!" He points at the dismal trailer with a lopsided grin. "It'll go up like a tinderbox!" he purses his lips and makes the sound of something blowing up while he demonstrates with his hands.

Finally, the darkness in her eyes lifts. Mac throws back her head and laughs until she collapses against him. She wraps her arms around him and snuggles close. He rubs her shoulder and kisses her temple while her laughter fades. He just holds her.

"Boy, Joe Mackenzie was lucky you weren't around when I was a scared, angry kid. The Marine Corps would've been really pissed off at him after I set fire to base housing! Because if you'd made that offer - oh say 25 years ago - I probably would've taken you up on it."

She sits with him a moment longer and then stands up with determination. She hands him the bucket with the mop and broom in it, and picks up the dust pan. She slams the rear door of the SUV and heads for the porch.

Fishing the key out of her breast pocket, she tells him. "'I've got gloves if you want them. Don't push your hands in any cubbyholes, or dark nooks or crannies inside this place without looking first. Officer Raymond and his partner found drug paraphernalia. If I remember correctly, he said syringes, and latex balloons."

"Balloons?"

"Black tar heroin Harm."

"Lovely."

I could be wrong, but I really don't think it's Casey's. I know she drinks, but my understanding is that she prefers pills; prescription abuse. My guess is; it's Derek's, or maybe one of her other charming friends." Mac says dryly. "The cops cleaned out what they could find and they gave me permission to be here, but be careful. "Oh," she says. "Just so you know, it looks like a roadside bomb went off in here."

She turns the key in the lock, but to his surprise, she turns the knob and simply puts her fingertips against the door and gives it a slight push. Instead of swinging open on its hinges, door simply crashes to the floor. Walking in, over the fallen door, she looks back at him and says sarcastically, "Don't be shy. Come on in. Make yourself at home."

The first thing Harm notices is the smell of week old garbage. Then, he looks around at the detritus. "Two people did this? Only two people? Mac, it looks like five roadside bombs went off in here, and I thought the skillet laying in the front yard looked out of place." He shakes his head.

Mac gives him a moment or two to do nothing but stand, turn a circle, and take it all in. She knows he's going to need time to get acclimated. She on the other hand, is already in motion. Watching where she steps, over broken glass and furniture, she moves toward the kitchen opening windows as she goes. She also turns on ceiling fans and window air conditioning units trying to air the place out. Then she reverses direction and heads back through the living room and down the hallway toward the two smaller bedrooms, doing the same things; ceiling fans, windows and window units. Before returning to the living room, she snags the trash can within easy reach of the bathroom door. She carries it out to the front porch and leaves it sitting there against the outer wall of the trailer while she returns to the kitchen and other rooms to repeat the process. Halfway through the process of her garbage collection, she passes Harm for the third time.

"If you find anything broken that you can fix with what is already here, you can start there. No trips to the hardware store. If it's broken, and you can't fix it, it goes in the garbage; period. I'm paying to replace the window in an attempt to protect what meager possessions she does have. We will not pay to repair or replace anything in the way of personal possessions because she and Prince Charming can't figure out how to have an argument without destroying everything within arm's reach; including each other. There's broken glass and splintered wood everywhere. Be careful where you put your hands. The worst of the mess is here in the living room, the kitchen, and the master bedroom off the kitchen. Down the hallway there are two bedrooms and another bath. It looks almost normal back there; if you want to start back there and work your way forward. Give me a few more minutes, and I will start sweeping up where possible."

He nods mechanically. She walks out the front door again with the last of the trash collection. He turns, picks up the fallen front door, and leans it against a wall so they won't have to walk over it. He steps out onto the porch and joins her in tying overflowing trash bags closed. They start a pile at the end of the drive. He notices that beneath the trash can liners most of the trash cans are filthy. Wrinkling his nose at the grime, he looks around for a water hose. Finding one not far from the shattered kitchen window, he starts carrying the trash cans over. Mac understands, and grabs a few more; following him. When all the cans are lined up within easy reach of the water hose, she leaves him to spray them clean and up end them to dry in the grass.

A short while later, when he returns to the living room, he finds her walking the interior again, this time with a laundry basket perched on her hip; collecting dirty dishes throughout the various rooms. While she puts a portion of the dirty dishes in the sink to soak, he begins walking through the living room picking up pieces of busted furniture. He estimates that the equivalent of one chair, the coffee table, a flat screen TV and a bookshelf are beyond repair. He starts hauling it outside to the curb one piece at a time. When he gets to the larger pieces, he finds that no matter what she's doing, Mac will suddenly materialize at his side. Without comment, she helps him carry the heavier debris out and then returns to her own work until she is needed again.

While he is busy removing a busted light bulb from a lamp, she walks through again carrying the same laundry basket. This time, she appears to be collecting dirty clothes from all the rooms in the trailer. It occurs to him at this point that he hears the noisy dishwasher churning away in the kitchen and a few minutes later he hears what he assumes is an antiquated washing machine starting up. He's busy trying to repair the damaged electrical cord on the same lamp when she walks through again with a glass of lemonade for him and disappears again just as quietly she came. Her silence starts to worry him, and the lamp shade is toast. He tosses it out the front door in the general direction of the heap of trash bags and goes after her; broken glass still crunching underfoot.

Before he can make it to the kitchen, she comes running out and nearly collides with him; carrying the most rank smelling trash can of all. He takes it from her and hurries for the front door. "Found another one; huh?"

She follows him. "No. I have emptied that one twice already, but I just opened the refrigerator door." She breathes through her mouth and looks like she's going to be sick. "I think it's what's left of peas and maybe a ham, but I'm not certain of anything except that it's nasty! There's nothing else in there except for a can of olives and a stick of rancid butter."

"Go back in. I'll take care of the trash can."

When he's done emptying the trash can, he returns it to the kitchen. He finds that a small door opens beneath the countertop of the breakfast bar and reveals a liquor cabinet. Mac is at the sink pouring the contents of a bottle down the drain and there is a trash bag in the corner of the room filled with the empty bottles. "Want me to do that?" he asked noting that there are several more bottles waiting to be emptied."

She shakes her head. "I'm okay here Harm. But the step stool is broken. The arm that's supposed to lock it in place when you unfold it is missing a screw."

Harm squints while nodding; not really sure what a broken step stool has to do with the disposing of liquor. Mac points to the low ceiling overhead. Harm glances up to see the shadow of a small bottle of liquor resting against the upper side of a frosted glass rectangular light fixture.

"What the hell?"

"Drunk behavior." Mac declares grimly. "You sort of have to be one to understand it. My guess is that at some point in the recent past, she tried to quit but didn't have much luck with it. You don't keep bottles in the usual places, but you hide them from yourself so that when it gets so bad you can't stand it anymore you can go find them. I found one in the washing machine and one in a zip-loc bag in the fish tank in the master bedroom."

Harm can't help but laugh. "She's one broken bottle away from drunken fish."

"Yeah. Gives a whole new meaning to the words drink like a fish."

He reaches up, grabs the bottle and then lets it go. "Damn, it's hot."

"Well yeah! It is lying up against a light bulb Harm." She tosses him a dish towel.

He tries again, using the towel to protect his skin. With the bottle in his hand, he crosses to the sink and uses one corner of the towel to unscrew the cap without burning himself. When its contents are down the drain and the bottle is in the trash bag, he returns to her and wraps his arms around her. "How're you doing really?"

"I'm okay, as long as I keep moving, as long as I don't stop to think. Wish I could find a radio. I'm going to sweep and mop in here. Then I'll start on the living room floor. This room is nearly done, except for that wall paper over there." She points. "I tried scrubbing it. It didn't work. You have a pocket knife on you?"

Harm walks around the overturned kitchen table to the wall she pointed at and looks of the deluded stain she tried to scrub away. "Is that blood?"

She nods. "What's left of it anyway. If anybody had tried to clean it up Saturday night the stain might have come out, but it's set in now."

He takes the knife from his pocket and cuts out a square of wallpaper only to find when he peels it loose that the stain had seeped through to the wall behind it. He shrugs. "She can cover it after she gets home." He pitches the scrap of wallpaper into the trash bag with the empty bottles. Since he's already there, he gets rid of what's left in the liquor cabinet while Mac starts to sweep. At one point, she stops, leaves the room. And when she returns she's carrying the heavy cast iron skillet that Harm spotted lying in the grass outside.

"How did she stand in this room and hurl that enormous skillet through that window and 8 feet away from the trailer."

"She didn't. Derek had to do that. She's scrawny. She weighs 103 pounds and she's taller than Mom. She couldn't hurl a skillet this size that far no matter how pissed off she was. This is one of the larger ones. I threw one of the smallest ones several years ago. It's not easy. Takes a helluva lot of adrenaline. Certainly more than Casey can manage. Saturday night she was too drunk to stand up straight, much less throw this 30 pound bad boy out that window.

"You threw one of those?"

"Not one of these. The one I threw might have weighed ten pounds; probably eight."

"But why?

"I threw it at Chris's head." She admits quietly. "Fortunately for him, I missed, but not by much." She says without answering the question. "Help me upright the table so I can finish sweeping in here. The guy who's going to replace the window is here. He just pulled up when I was outside."

Eyeing her with concern, Harm decides it might not be wise to press for an answer to his question; at least not at the moment. They set the overturned table right again, and she wipes it down with a dish rag that smells of bleach while he tends to the overturned chairs. "Mac, leave the floor in here until the window guy is done. He's probably going to make a mess anyway. Come to the living room with me. Hold the front door for me while I see if I can put it back on its hinges."

She nods and follows. With her supporting the door, and the use of the tools, Harm does manage to set the door back on its hinges, and with some minor tinkering he is able to realign the doorknob properly so that the door will latch.

Halfway through the process of fixing the door, the repair man comes in and she points him to the kitchen. The man quietly sets to work. That name patch sewn on the pocket of his shirt reads 'Quinn.' Much to Mac's surprise, Quinn asks no nosy questions about the state of the trailer and she is grateful for it.

Returning to their task with the front door Harm murmurs, "I guess this is not the first busted window he's fixed."

"It's quite possible that it's not the first busted window he's replaced in this trailer." Mac says warily.

While the repairman works in the kitchen, Harm and Mac take time sweeping, mopping, and vacuuming the floors in the rest of the trailer. When that is done, she strips the sheets from the beds, and walks the rest of her sister's dirty laundry over to her mother's trailer to be tended to there. While she was there her mother responded when asked direct questions, but otherwise did not talk to her.

When she returns, she scrubs the bathrooms while Harm sets to work cleaning the kitchen floor as best he can with the repairman in there. When he returns to the living room, he finds Mac closing the windows and shutting off the window units and ceiling fans. He brings the trash cans back in and leaves them stacked, one inside the other, in a corner of the kitchen. Mac unplugs all the kitchen appliances including the refrigerator , opens the refrigerator and freezer doors, sets a box of baking soda inside both and leaves them that way. She asks Harm to go outside and shut off the gas coming into the trailer since no one will be there.

"I take it Derek doesn't live here." Harm asks.

"Not anymore." Mac says wryly. "It was an on again-off again sort of thing. I have no proof of this, but my gut tells me he's married and that he only stayed here when he was not getting along with his wife. I'm padlocking both the front and the back door when we leave. Casey doesn't have much. If he does have a key, I don't want him in here stealing what little she does have in her absence. I'll call the power company tomorrow and have them shut off the lights. Can you get the drill and attach the hardware for the padlocks to the door frames. There's only one thing more I want to do here. I'll be out in a few minutes."

Several minutes later, when he has padlocked the back door and left the padlock hanging ready on its latch at the front door, she has not joined him so he returns her cleaning supplies and tools to the back of his rental. Still alone, and with nothing left to do he goes in search of her.

"Mac?" he calls from the end of the hallway.

"I'm back here. In Laura's room." He finds his way to the small bedroom obviously intended for the little girl. In spite of all her little girl things, somehow the room is colorless and does little to reflect her vibrant personality. He finds Mac on the floor in the drab little room; rolling up a sleeping bag.

"Planning a camping trip?"

She shakes her head, without further comment, so he kneels before her and waits. When she finally glances up to meet his gaze, he sees angry tears for the first time since their arrival.

"No. I'm putting it up. She's not going to need it anymore."

Harm doesn't understand, but before he can ask for a clarification, she explains softly,

"It was on the floor in the closet with a pillow… And Rosie. The confined space of the closet… It probably gave her a sense of security; albeit a false one. She hid there; slept there… when things got scary."

Harm mentally kicks himself. It hadn't occurred to him that the hardest room to deal with here in this place would be the one least touched by destruction. As he watches, she ties the bedroll's straps with a vengeance; her movements agitated. She picks it up and steps to the closet, but she seems to change her mind. Instead of placing the sleeping bag on the shelf; she tucks it under her arm. On her way out the door, she retrieves a small backpack, and a rag doll in a faded yellow dress from the foot of the twin size bed. She tucks the rag doll into the front pocket of the backpack. She zips the pouch shut enough so that the doll won't fall out, despite the fact that her head and arms are outside the pocket. Mac slings one strap of the pack over one shoulder. Then she reaches for his hand.

"Get me out of here." She whispers; sounding hollow and scared. He clenches his jaw wondering how often she hid out in tiny, cramped, closets. She holds tight to his hand even when she's ½ step behind him in the narrow hallway and he leads her out; not stopping until she steps out of the trailer

On the front porch, she pays the repairman, barely glancing at the new window, then while Harm locks the door and then snaps the new padlock into place. She watches the repairman drive away and then Harm finds her hand in his again. She clings to him and sprints to the end of the drive. When she gets there, she drops the sleeping bag on top of the trash heap.

With absolutely no desire to talk to her mother again, or to even see the woman. Mac steps across the street and leaves the key to her sister's front door along with copies of the keys to the new padlocks in her mother's mailbox.

She climbs into the front passenger seat of the SUV and places the little backpack in the back seat. With 30 minutes left before they have to pick up Laura, Harm climbs in behind the wheel, puts the vehicle in gear, and heads for anywhere but there.

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Take another moment to say what you think. Reviews feed the muse. Thanks!

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**Chapter 7: She's Being Sassy?**

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Author's Note: After the last couple of chapters I needed a little fun. Bet you could use some too.

Disclaimer: Really! Again? 'sigh' OK, they're still not mine.

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Wednesday, August 22, 2007

1807 HRS

San Diego, California

"Hey Harm! Did you move my book again" Laura calls out loudly, starling him, and causing him to splatter hot vegetable soup all over the stove top. Chagrined, he drops the ladle back in the pot as he turns to look over the breakfast bar that divides the kitchen and the small dining area in Mac's little waterfront hideaway.

Laura is standing at the small dining table looking equally peeved. The chair beside which she stands is empty. He shakes his head. "Sorry sweetheart." He steps back into the kitchen and opens the cabinet above the telephone. Taking out the Yellow Pages for the greater Los Angeles area, a phone book several inches thick, he returns it to the seat of the chair in question then picks her up and gently plops her down on top of the book. "There, is that better?"

"Yeah, that's better, but stop moving my book, okay?"

"Sorry. I didn't know it was a booster seat the first time I did it. I just thought it looked out of place."

"Aunt Mac doesn't like for me to sit on my knees." She explains, and then squeals, "I'll get it!" when a knock sounds at the front door. She scampers down awkwardly and then moves as fast as she can in the direction of the front door. "I'm coming!" she yells happily.

Harm returns to the kitchen to wipe up the mess on the stove calling out, "Make sure you ask who it is before you open the door."

"I know." She calls back to him in a tone that clearly says, "I'm not stupid." Then, seconds later, she calls out glibly, "Am I allowed to let Aunt Mac in?"

Harm leaves the kitchen at a trot, shaking his head again. As he approaches the front door he hears Mac's response from the other side of the door; laughing, she says, "The answer better be yes!"

He lifts Laura off the floor with one arm and unlocks the front door at the same time. Opening it, he smiles, "Sorry, somebody's being sassy with me." He explains, hugging the girl a little tighter.

"Hey, how come you knocked on your own door anyway?" Laura wants to know.

Mac pushes her bangs out of her face and then kisses the girl's cheek. "Because it was locked. And I don't have my key. I gave it to Harm, so he could run errands while I was out."

"Oh yeah, we went to the grocery store Aunt Mac."

"I can tell. Something smells divine."

Harm sets Laura's feet on the floor and repositions her walker for her. "Go back to the table kiddo. We'll eat soon."

They both watch her until she is out of view. "She's being sassy?"

"I got on her nerves. I moved her book again." He grins sheepishly.

"Well stop doing that Flyboy!" Mac scolds lightly offering him a quick kiss.

"How'd the teacher conferences go?'

"Okay."

"Just okay… Or is our trip to your sister's still bothering you?"

"Yes and yes. I'm sick of this day Harm." Mac leans into the embrace he offers. Just a couple more hours; I can put her to bed and relax a little." She sighs. "Last school year she did well. She did exceptionally well at reading, spelling, and language comprehension. She needs help with math. She gets in trouble for talking in the classes where she does well. Teachers seem to think she's bored because she finishes her work before everybody else. She's bright, which I knew, but doesn't always turn homework in. It's not surprising. I imagine she gets very little supervision when it comes to homework. Apparently Mrs. Edmund, her teacher last year, tried to talk Casey into putting her into an advanced placement reading class. Casey wouldn't do it. Something about worrying that the older kids would pick on her too much."

"Does Laura want to be in the advanced class?"

"I have no idea. This is the first I've heard of it."

Laura calls out. "Hey people; hungry kid in here. Somebody come feed me!"

"God, she has your stomach!" Harm rolls his eyes. "Come on let's go ask her."

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Reviews feed the muse. Thanks!


	3. Thursday, August 23, 2007

**Chapter 8: Confessions**

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Author's Note: This chapter is, at least in part, dedicated to reader Jeanmary. You absolutely cracked me up when you called Clayton Webb the major stupid spy! By the way, you guys might wanna find something sturdy to hold onto. You had to know that Mac and Harm were going to get into a fight at least once!

Disclaimer: they still aren't mine, but I think I did this pretty well. Let me know what you think.

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Thursday, August 23, 2007

San Diego California

0852 Hours

Harm opens one eye when a small hand tentatively touches his bare shoulder. Laura pulls her hand away quickly and whispers, "Good morning. Aunt Mac said it's time for you to get out of bed lazy bones."

He groans and pulls the quilt over his head. He hears no movement to indicate that she's leaving the room. He waits 10 seconds and then peeks out from under the quilt. Mini-Mac is still there; patiently looking at him with the same wide dark eyes.

"Where is Aunt Mac anyway?" he asks, his voice still husky with sleep.

"She's sitting on the back porch watching the beach. She told me to tell you she's drinking your coffee and if you don't get up soon she's gonna eat your oatmeal too."

Harm covers his face with a pillow. "I'll make more." He mumbles.

"Na uh! She says you're not allowed.

He moves the pillow. "I'm not allowed?"

She shakes her head emphatically, "Aunt Mac says no!"

"Laura, sweetheart, go tell that jarhead that this squid said to stop drinking his coffee!"

She chews on her lower lip for a second and then smiles pensively, "Okay squid. I'll tell her to stop drinking your coffee, but I'm not calling her that. No way; Uh uh."

Harm waits until she leaves the room. When he's certain she's not going to double back, he throws off the bed linens, sits up, and picks his boxers up off the floor. Slipping into them, and reaching for his pants, he sighs tiredly. Mac kept him awake most of the night, now she is adamantly requesting his company for breakfast, and he likes it just fine, or at least he would, if she'd had a more peaceful night. Wondering how she's doing this morning he shuffles for the bathroom and turns on the shower; waiting for the water to get hot while he brushes his teeth.

They had stayed in the living room only ½ hour after Laura had gone to bed the night before. Harm hadn't expected it, given the day she'd had, but they made love and then fell asleep watching the tide roll in and out. What little sleep she'd had was fretful. It seemed no sooner than she closed her eyes she had begun to dream unpleasant dreams. She murmured, tossed, turned, and even kicked in her sleep. Sometimes a reassuring touch would quiet her, other times she pushed him away, all without waking. When she did wake, she stubbornly refused to talk about her dreams though she would cling to him fiercely; their proximity to one another in the small bed always managed to reignite passion. After the first recurrence, he wondered if he should feel guilty. Obviously she was having a bad night, no doubt, brought on by memories their visit to her sister's had unearthed. He didn't want to take advantage of her distress, but when he tried to resist it upset her even more; it even seemed to frighten her. After each bout of lovemaking, one of them rather aggressive, she would fold herself into his embrace and be calm until the dreams started again. He noticed, when he gave up trying to resist, that she slept longer between fits. He hated what was happening to her, but if having him there in that way helped her at all, gave her any peace at all, then he'd be there.

While in the shower. it occurs to him that Laura's placement hearing scheduled for tomorrow morning is little more than one day before he is to leave. He expects it to go in her favor. In fact, he can't imagine why it wouldn't, but what if it doesn't? He asks himself. He tries to imagine what her sleep will be like then. He cannot leave her. As soon as he is out of the shower he heads for his laptop and his e-mail. He will request more leave time. He will do it now. He doesn't care if she eats his oatmeal before he makes it to the back porch. He types and sends the e-mail.

When he does make it to the back porch, he finds her, sitting barefoot on the steps; sipping coffee and watching Laura play in the sand. Laura had been wearing only a nightgown when he'd last seen her. She is now dressed in shorts and a bathing suit. The little girl is filling a red plastic bucket with sand that she scoops up with a green plastic shovel. No sooner than the bucket is full, her dog turns the bucket over. This does not seem to upset her, in fact, she laughs and starts filling the bucket again. The dog sits and waits. Apparently, they are playing a game.

Harm joins Mac; sitting down beside her on the wide porch step. She offers him the cup of coffee she is holding along with a tired smile. Without comment, she picks up the breakfast tray at her other side and enters the house.

He stays where he is for a moment, watching the game with the sand bucket. This time, Candy overturns the bucket, dumps it out, then picks it up by the handle and runs away with it. Laura watches her for a moment and then simply shrugs and amuses herself with the sand shovel. After a few long seconds the dog returns looking sad. Harm imagines that she wanted Laura to give chase, not getting what she wanted; she drops the bucket in the sand and waits for the game to begin again. Laura obliges her.

Just when Harm is about to get up and go inside, looking for Mac, she returns and the tray she carries is loaded. She returns to her place beside him, balancing the tray carefully, and once she is seated she places the tray over his lap.

"Somebody told me you were going to eat my breakfast."

"Meh." She shrugs. "I lied!"

"Mac! It's not nice to lie to little kids," he laughs.

"I just wanted you to get out of bed. We have to leave in a little while to meet with her doctors and I wanted to see you first. You want to go with us, or do you want to stay here and sleep?"

He bites into a piece of toast before answering. "I'll go with you… Unless I can talk you into staying here and sleeping with me… You didn't get much last night."

She nods. "I wish I could stay. I would if this weren't so important. I knew I wasn't going to sleep well last night. That happens sometimes; though it's nowhere near as bad as it used to be. If you hadn't been here, I wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all. I would've been up, prowling the house, looking for something, anything to do. There's nothing quite so much fun as drunk dreams." She adds the last bit sarcastically.

"Drunk dreams?"

"Yeah, dreams of all of the bad stuff in my life; Joe, Eddie, Chris, Sadik Faud, Clay mixed in with the images of things I can't remember doing, but probably did do; I just wasn't sober enough at the time to either know about it or care about it. Last night was the worst in a while; a few years actually. Being at Casey's, that's what did it. She thinks we're so different. The scary part is we're actually quite alike." The only real difference is that I didn't drag a kid through it with me. Harm, she's not going to make tomorrow easy."

He sets the tray aside and reaches for her hand. "Mac, you're too hard on yourself. The fact that you didn't drag a kid through it is what makes you different. One of the things. To the best of my knowledge, you didn't seriously assault anyone, or wind up in jail."

"Only because I had a few good friends who looked out for me; there were some close calls and you already know that."

"Mac… Can ask you something."

She nods.

"That list you just rattled off; it's pretty gruesome. What made you stick Webb's name in there."

"You mean other than the fact that I never should've gotten mixed up with him in the first place?"

"Is there something other than that?" he asks not sure he wants to hear the answer.

"Guilt I guess. I never should've gotten involved with Mic Brunby either. That was costly enough, but Clay was different. I could've lost myself with him. I walked a tightrope there Harm. He brought out the worst of my personality. I don't think that relationship did me any good at all. With Mic, at least I have a few good memories. With Clay, I was flirting with disaster. If he hadn't pulled that stupid stunt he pulled, I'm not sure I would've left him; at least not before it was too late."

"Well, you did. There's no point beating yourself up for things that might have happened."

"I bumped into him a few months ago. He puts up a good front, but he's not the same man anymore. Mostly I feel relieved that he did disappear the way he did. It was harsh, but he did me a favor in a back-handed sort of way. And the fact that I feel that way makes me a little sad." She gives him a pained look. "I don't know if I ever said this or if it even matters to you, but… Harm, I'm sorry; for Paraguay, for Clay, for the hold damn mess!"

"It matters." He says quietly, folding her into a hug. "I'm sorry too. Mac, you weren't the only one there in Paraguay you didn't make that mess of all by yourself. It was my fault too. But something good did come out of all that. It set me on the road to Mattie. I don't regret that. I never will."

"How are you doing with that?"

"Probably not as well as I should. I went to the cemetery a few days ago. It was awful. Harriett says I need to find a way to be with her that doesn't make me edgy."

"Harriet's smart. You should listen to her." She lifts her head off his shoulder. "What about flying? You two met and bonded because of that."

"I haven't flown, at least not for pleasure, not since before her funeral… only for travel." He admits quietly; looking out over the water. When he makes eye contact again, it surprises him if to find tears in her eyes. "Hey" he objects lightly, "What's with the tears?"

"Harm, you let your flight status lapse?" She asks; sounding scared.

"No, I've done just enough to keep it, but that's it."

"Harm, you've got to get back in the air. You have to." She whispers; still sounding just as scared.

"Why does this bother you? You were never really comfortable with my flying anyway."

"Oh, who cares about that!" She thumps his chest with her palm. "This is not about me! No wonder you've been so unhappy in London. Whether I'm comfortable with it or not, it's part of your soul Harm!"

"I encouraged her Mac. I encouraged her to take those lessons. I paid for them."

"And what? You think that makes her death your fault?"

"Doesn't it?" he asks unable to look at her; staring out at the water again

"Harmon Rabb!" she jumps up, leaving the steps to pace in the sand in front of him. "Of all the dumbass things I have ever heard you say! Matilda Grace died because a plane crashed. It had nothing to do with you. You weren't even there … and you probably couldn't have stopped it if you had been there, so don't even go there because I know that's what'll be next out of your mouth. And as for those lessons you paid for, if you hadn't, she would've found another way to pay for them. She was a stubborn kid…who loved to fly. Nobody could understand where she was coming from better than you! How many times Harm? How many times did you get in a plane knowing you might not land safely?"

He shrugs.

"She stops pacing and takes both his hands in hers. "You love it anyway." With fresh tears in her eyes she whispers, "Your dad was shot down… And still… You love it anyway. Do you think Mattie was any less passionate about it?"

"No."

"Do you think that she blames you, or that she wants you to blame yourself?"

"No."

"Okay, so what's it gonna take to get you airborne again? For reasons other than travel or qualifications."

"I don't know Mac." He admits in a defeated tone of voice that pisses her off.

Disgusted, she lets go of his hands "Well you just better think about it because you're getting back up there! It doesn't have to be today, or tomorrow, or even next month, but it does have to happen. I won't stand here and watch you let this part of yourself die!" she shouts.

"What difference does it make?" he shouts back as anger boils inside him; burning white hot instantly. What right did she have to be mad at him about flying, or not flying?

But then, as quickly as his temper had flared, it dies. He would have gone on shouting if Laura weren't suddenly there at Mac's side; clinging to her aunt's hand, and looking petrified. Ashamed of himself, he lowers his voice to a whisper. "What do you care? Why does this matter so much?"

She scoops Laura up in her arms and rubs the girl's back soothingly while she glares at him. "Because I love you; you idiot!"

Mac stomps passed him, up the steps, across the porch, into the house, and slams the door.

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**Chapter 9: The Feeling Is Mutual**

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Author's Note: If at some point over the next week or so I briefly lose contact with y'all, please do not be alarmed. I am going to finish this story. I will not leave you hanging. I hate when an author starts a story that really grabs me, and then never bothers to finish it. I have no intention of doing that to you. However, several months ago, I requested a remodeling job inside my apartment. I was told that the apartment complex where I currently live could not afford to accommodate such a request, but that the apartment complex right next door is owned by the same management company and could accommodate my request. Instead of simply remodeling the bathroom as I asked, they remodeled an entire apartment. It's almost ready to move into and it's gorgeous! For the first time in my life, I am actually looking forward to packing up all my worldly possessions and moving. (Under any other condition, I hate moving.) Although I am thrilled about this, at some point in the relatively immediate future I will lose Internet access for a few days. Rest assured, even if I cannot immediately share it with you, I will be writing whenever possible. Hopefully I won't be gone for very long and as soon as I am back you shall have more to read!

Disclaimer: They still aren't mine. I wish they were. Don't you?

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Thursday, August 23, 2007

San Diego California

0920 Hours

He sits there on the back porch step in a daze.

_"Because I love you; you idiot!_

Her words echo inside his head; going around and around. She's never said that before. Not even about other people. He asked her once what was between her and Brumby. Her reply had been simply, 'What do you think is between us?' He had also asked her if she loved Webb. Her answer that time had been, 'I told him I did.'

She was evasive about it. She never liked to answer the question directly. Because she couldn't, Harm thinks. If she'd been honest about it, to me, to anyone, to herself, then she would've had to deal with it.

Hell, I'm no better, he thinks. How many times had the women in his life asked him to define what was between himself and Mac. They have all asked, his various girlfriends, his mother, Mattie… And Mac. How many times has she alone asked me to define our relationship? I've lost count, he tells himself.

Why admit it so directly now? Because she hadn't meant to; he muses. People tell the most truth when they're either drunk or angry… She had told him some pretty harsh truths the day she was drunk too. But she hadn't looked angry today; at least not at first. Before the anger took hold, she looked scared. Why? She'd answered that too. Because she thinks part of me is dying. He answers himself again.

Oh hell! He berates himself. She told me she loves me, and I'm sitting here on the back porch in a fog like the idiot she declared me to be.

He's up, through the back door, and standing in the middle of the kitchen before he even knows that he has moved. The kitchen is empty. Where is she? He can see she's not in the living room either.

"Mac!" he yells. "Mac!"

He checks the bedroom, their room, he thinks. No Mac.

"Mac!" She's either in Laura's room or the bathroom. Those are the only places left. Why won't she answer him? He crosses her small living room at a trot in half a dozen steps. He's in the short hallway that's really more of an alcove between the living room and the master bedroom before he hears Laura through the bathroom door.

"Lock the door Aunt Mac, lock the door!"

Oh Damn! I'm still scaring the kid! He curses himself. Desperate to fix it, he makes things worse. When he tries to open the door, Laura yelps. The door doesn't open more than half an inch before in slams shut in his face.

"Just wait Harm!" Mac orders, sounding slightly frazzled, but not angry.

"Lock the door!" Laura pleads again.

"Baby, the door doesn't need to be locked. He hears her explain calmly. "Harm isn't going to hurt anybody."

"He's yelling!" Laura accuses; a pout evident in her voice.

"Baby he can yell all he wants." It doesn't mean he's going to hurt anybody."

"That's what it means at my house." Laura says stubbornly; unconvinced.

"Well, this is my house. We don't do that here. And besides, he's not yelling because he's mad, at least not anymore. He's yelling because something I just said to him finally sunk in." she chuckles, "He's just having a delayed reaction." Just for good measure, she addresses her next comments to him through the closed bathroom door. "Stop yelling Flyboy. You're scaring her!"

"Yeah, I can tell." He answers in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I didn't mean to scare you. I won't yell anymore… I promise. Can I come in?"

"No! You stay out!" Laura answers him. "Aunt Mac, lock the door!"

"Laura…" Mac starts softly.

"Mac." He says quietly. Just lock the door. If it'll make her feel better, lock me out."

He hears the lock slide into place and then he hears Mac. "See baby. He wants you to feel safe."

Harm presses his back to the wall opposite the bathroom door and squats on his heels to wait it out.

"He's not coming in?"

"No he's not." Mac answers her. "He can't come in."

"Good!"

"It's not good baby. If you don't let him in, he can't apologize. He didn't mean to scare you. We just got a little excited, that's all. Laura, we got mad at each other. We've known each other a long time, and sometimes we argue. Sometimes we even yell at each other, but we never hurt each other… Not with our hands. We don't throw things at each other. We don't break things, and we never, ever hit. I might yell at him. If I do, he's probably going to yell back, but they're just words. Maybe loud words but he's never going to hurt me. I'm never going to hurt him… And we're never ever going to hurt you, I promise."

The bathroom is silent. Harm waits. After more than 30 seconds Mac asks, "Can we finish washing the sand off of you now. He doesn't hear the girl speak but she must nod, because soon he hears water running in the shower.

He waits.

"Let's take your swimsuit off, and get you dressed for your appointments." Mac says after a time. Harm guesses that she must have a clean change of clothes for the girl already with her and she's hoping that routine actions will help restore Laura's sense of security.

The bathroom is silent for several minutes except for the faint sounds of movement within.

Harm hears a sound he cannot identify until Mac says, "C'mere let's put this in your hair while it's still wet. He decides that what he heard was the sound of hair product; either conditioner, moose, or gel, being released from its container.

Laura is completely silent for a few more minutes. When she finally speaks, Harm can picture her little face scrunched up in a pensive frown. "Mom never tells anybody she loves them while she's screaming at them."

Mac's laughter is musical. "See. Told you we were different."

"I still don't like it Aunt Mac." The girl says seriously.

"Well, that's okay. You're not supposed to like it. I don't like it when we yell at each other either… And we shouldn't do that in front of you anyway. I'm sorry we did. We won't do that very often. But if we do, I meant what I said. We don't hurt each other, and you will always be safe."

Harm listens; knowing that the girl must look doubtful when he hears Mac ask, "Haven't you ever had an argument with Liam before? I seem to recall you telling me a few days ago that you two were upset with each other."

"Not no more."

"Not anymore." Mac corrects her gently.

"Not anymore." Laura acquiesces. "We made up."

"Right and you're still friends."

Harm can hear tears when Laura whispers, "I hit him once. A long time ago. He stopped talking to me after that for a little while."

"How did that make you feel?" Mac asks gently.

"Not good." She admits in a small voice. "I had a really bad stomach ache until I said I was sorry."

"I bet you did. You ever hit him again; after that?" Harm doesn't hear Laura's answer, but she must shake her head before Mac comments, "That's good baby."

"Aunt Mac, how come Mom doesn't get a stomach ache?"

"How do you know she doesn't?"

"You think it makes her feel bad."

"I do."

"Then why doesn't she stop?"

"Maybe she just doesn't know how to. Hitting people when you're angry; it's a learned behavior."

"Can she unlearn it?"

"Maybe; but she'll have to work really hard at it."

Laura's frown is evident in her voice. "Mom's lazy. She won't do it if it's hard."

"Maybe not, but we don't have to be lazy."

"Do you think Harm would get a stomach ache if he hurt you?"

"Laura, if you let me unlock the door, you can ask him that yourself?"

"You think he's still out there?"

"I know he is. He wouldn't leave without fixing this. He's probably got a stomach ache right now."

"Why?" Laura asks curiously. "He didn't hit anybody."

"No, but he's a big old softy compared to you and me. He didn't mean to scare you, and he won't leave or feel better until he knows you do… Can we go see him now?"

"Harm?" Laura calls out to him uncertain he will answer.

"I'm here Laura." He answers quietly.

"You really think it's okay?" she asks her aunt; still not completely certain.

"I know it is Laura, plus I really want to hug the guy."

Relief overwhelms him when he hears Laura giggle. "Aunt Mac; your weird!"

"Oh I'm weird; am I?"

"Yep, you're weird! First you yell at him, now you wanna hug him."

"Laura if you think that's weird, try wanting to hug him while you're yelling at him. That's a whole new level of weirdness."

"Oh man, you really are weird!"

"Laura, we need to get going. I have to open this door now. He's out there. Either we let him stay, or we tell him to go away. Which do you want?

"You think he would? Go away?"

"I know he will. If you ask him to."

"Open the door."

The door does open. For a moment, Mac just stands in the bathroom doorway with Laura nestled on her hip. The girl eyes him warily at first, and then curiously. "Harm; why are you sitting on the floor?"

"I'm waiting for you. I'm really sorry I scared you Laura. I didn't mean to. I'll try not to do that anymore… and no, it wouldn't give me a stomach ache if I hurt your aunt… it would break my heart… and she's right; I'll leave if you ask me to."

For a moment, Laura looks at Mac; needing reassurance. Mac nods, and Laura slowly turns her gaze back to Harm. When she does, her lower lip is trembling, "Please don't leave." She whispers pitifully. Still clinging to Mac with one arm; she reaches out for him.

Coming to his full height, he wraps an arm loosely around both of them. "Okay, I'll stay." He says quietly.

She gives him a tentative hug. Feeling somewhat braver afterward she tells him, "And stop yelling at her. She loves you!"

"So I heard!" Harm laughs; rubbing Mac's shoulder. "I'm really glad she does because the feeling is mutual."

Laura frowns. "I don't know what that means Harm; what's mutual?"

"It means I love her too." Harm clarifies, but it's not Laura he's looking at anymore.

Laura watches the two adults gazing at each other. She wonders what they look so happy about. "Well, why didn't you just say so Harm? It's much less confusing that way." Laura lectures.

"Laura." Mac gives that girl a gentle squeeze. "Give him a break! Some things are hard to say."

Laura looks confused. "Really… What's so hard about I love you?" Laura folds her arms over her chest waiting for an answer.

Close enough to kiss; but not doing so Mac smiles at Harm and raises an eyebrow. "You want to field that one?"

"I don't think I can. Suddenly, I don't remember what's so hard about it. He kisses her then; a sweet, tender, and much too brief kiss - too brief because the little girl between them is not happy.

"Oh yuck!" Laura exclaims. If you guys are gonna do that, put me down first!"

Mac gently breaks the kiss and bites her lower lip, then gives up the struggle and laughs. Turning away from Harm for only a moment, she bends at the waist to set the child's feet on the floor. "Laura, head for the car. Harm and I will be right behind you."

"Yours or his?" Laura needs to know.

Mac drapes her arms around Harm's neck before answering, your car seat's in the back of his.

Laura leaves them behind, muttering something about grownups being weird. Neither Harm nor Mac really hear her exact words.

* * *

**Chapter 10: A Bit More About Laura**

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Author's Note: The keys to the new place are mine on Thursday afternoon. DSL is scheduled to be connected on Friday at the new place but not disconnected at the old place until Monday, so maybe I won't lose my ability to talk with you guys after all.

The fact that I can't message some of my readers to thank them for their wonderful reviews is starting to get on my nerves.

Steamboat- I got your duplicated reviews; both of them, and I don't mind a bit. Reviews are time stamped. I receive your reviews two days after you post them. I have no idea why. Maybe we live in significantly different time zones. Usually, by the time I get your reviews for say - chapter six, I've already posted chapter eight. Whatever the cause is, don't stop. The delay is irksome, but you are more than worth it.

Navywife- Thank you for your last review in particular. The best way to make a story good, or believable, as you say is to write what you know. And if you don't "know" what you're writing about, you'd better research the hell out of it. Otherwise, the story has no heart. As to Harm & Deanne's interaction, I simply couldn't see it any other way. Thank you!

dlc967 - Out of the mouths of babes is right! I have a niece Laura's age. In fact, Laura is loosely modeled after her. She has this thing she says. I say, "Lily, come here." Lily looks at me, smiles sweetly and quietly says, "No, I don't want you right now." There's no ill will in it at all. It's always gently said. It's just a simple statement of fact. "I don't want you right now." We should all learn to be so honest. Of course, then I'm forced to chase after her and make her do as she's told. Still, when I am old and senile and I can't remember my own name, and she has babies of her own I think I will remember that. What things they say!

Just a quick word of warning, I tripped and fell this evening. I'm okay. No serious damage done. I'm just a little bruised. I'm sitting here waiting for the pain meds to kick in. So if this chapter has any weird typos in it – it's all my fault.

Disclaimer: They still aren't mine. I wish they were. Don't you?

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Thursday, August 23, 2007

San Diego California

1030 Hours

They sit in the waiting area of the building Charlie Waters called the POB. It is the professional office building behind the hospital. The place is geared for children. Not far from their seats, Laura plays with a child's activity table, content to entertain herself.

"I'm more than a little curious to meet this man." Mac tells Harm in a hushed voice. She sits in the uncomfortable vinyl chair beside him with her hand in his. "Laura obviously adores him. She hasn't stopped talking about him since I told her yesterday she was coming to see him, and when I got him on the phone Tuesday, he was a bit reserved at the beginning of the conversation until I told him who I was, my relation to Laura, and why I was calling. He was suddenly full of questions. 'How she doing? How's her gait, her hip, her tone, her spasticity, her ataxia, her supination…"

Harm is interested in the conversation, but she can tell by his furrowed brow that he's a little lost.

"I know." She smiles. "I felt the same way. Truth be told, I still do, but he was great about it. I had to tell him to stop at that point. When I told him I didn't understand half the questions he was asking me, he laughed and said 'okay let's start slower.' and he did. I told him her gait was awkward and getting worse since I'm not allowing her to wear the brace. I told him I intend to get her a new one, and he was thrilled. I also told him that her hip was okay as far as I knew and that he was going to have to explain the rest of it to me like I was three. He says, Laura has overdeveloped muscle tone in some areas of her body and underdeveloped tone in other areas. Basically, every time she moves her mind is at odds with her body. She wants to move. She thinks move but her body doesn't always comply; at least not the way it should. She's always having to compensate for this with the extreme focus on each movement; each step. Spasticity, and\or the lack of it, accounts for the rigid stiffness on some days, and the wet noodle limpness on other days. Ataxia just means she's unsteady on her feet, and supination refers to the way she walks; her ankles turn slightly outward and she bears most of her weight on the outsides of her feet rather than the ball. After my conversation with him, I found myself actually looking at her feet last night. She has no medial arch at all. It's usually undeveloped in children anyway, but Charlie says that it likely always will be for Laura. He says if we ignore these issues they'll only get worse and seriously impact her independence."

"Well that's no good." Harm declares; watching the girl play. As active as she is, as active as she wants to be, if she didn't need that walker we might have trouble keeping up with her; a lot of trouble. If she loses the ability she does have she won't be happy."

"Harm if she didn't need that walker Little A.J. would have trouble keeping up with her, and he's a human whirlwind."

Harm grins. "You think they'd like each other?"

Mac chuckles, "I think Laura would boss him around, the same way she does Liam. Sometimes I'm not sure why he puts up with it."

"I know why."

"You do? Harm you barely met the kid."

He shrugs. "He loves her… As much as his little eight year old heart can anyway. She bosses him around, picks on him for being a boy – something he has absolutely no control over, and she probably drives him crazy with all her questions; questions he doesn't really know the answers to, but he doesn't want to say so. He doesn't want her to think he's stupid; because he thinks she's awesome."

Mac raises an eyebrow, "Are we still talking about Liam and Laura?"

"Yes… And no." he adds more quietly.

Mac purses her lips and nods. "Ahh...well he shouldn't worry so much." she whispers; resting her head on his shoulder. "She knows he's not really stupid; even if she does call him a dumb boy sometimes and to be loved wholeheartedly, no matter how old he is, that's more than enough… But you still have to get back in air Flyboy. I'll go with you…if you want me to. You can go alone if you need to, but you've got to do it. It's too much a part of who you are."

Mac senses that his tightly wrapped emotions are near to unraveling. "I'll shut up for now." She says in a hushed tone only he can hear.

With an arm around her shoulders, Harm gives her a gentle squeeze. Before he can think of anything to say, a barrel-chested, bald man of about 30 who is taller than he is enters the room on silent feet.

Mac sits up a little straighter, making eye contact with the newcomer. The friendly smile he offers her is brilliant white, and then he puts a finger to his lips and lowers himself to one knee. His aqua eyes do not match his Caribbean skin tone but they sparkle with delight as he calls to Laura with his heavy Jamaican accent, "Hello there brown eyes."

Both Mac and Harm watch as the little girl turns slowly to face him. Mac catches a glimpse of the brightest smile she's seen in weeks. The toy car Laura had been playing with slips from her fingers and tumbles to the floor. She takes a few halting steps and hurls herself into the big man's waiting embrace; squealing happily, "Charlie!"

* * *

**Chapter 11: Therapy**

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Author's Note: Steamboat- Hehehehe. You are funny. When I wrote in chapter eight that Mac sent Laura to wake Harm up, I didn't mean she was being cowardly. I thought she was being rather cheeky. To use your own turn of phrase, no I don't think she was afraid to wake up the 'big bad squid' but you made me laugh anyway!

Disclaimer: I checked; DPB still owns them. (Sigh)

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Thursday, August 23, 2007

San Diego California

11:10 Hours

Laura lies flat on her back on a raised therapy mat. Conversation between she and Charlie takes on a stop and go rhythm. Mac and Harm stand quietly by watching the therapist gently manipulate the girl's hips, legs, and knees, ankles and feet. He moves, turns, flexes and stretches her limbs; reacquainting himself with her and getting a feel for where she's at physically.

When he asks her to move a certain way that is easy for her she chatters on happily; telling him about Liam, Aunt Mac and her new friend Harm. She asks him about his cat named Pickles and about how his baby son, Noah, is doing. She wants to know, is he still teething and drooling all over the place? They prattle on like old chums catching up after a prolonged absence from each other's lives.

When Charlie asks her to do something that is more difficult or requires concentration on her part, the conversation lapses while she focuses on the task at hand. At one point, he bends her left knee and places her small bare foot against the palm of his hand and tells her to push him away.

Laura complies, but not in a way he approves of.

"Oh child, your mama let you get lazy. Come on now, you can do better than that. Push me down!"

The adults watch Laura screw up her face in concentration and try with all her might to move his hand. Without telling her, Charlie lessens his resistance until she can manage it. They repeat process twice more and he teases, "Okay, we can stop now. You've worn me out!"

"Na uh Charlie; you're lying." She won't be fooled. "I get tired a lot now."

"Well now, that's OK. You haven't been to see me in a long time.

"I wanted to come." she pouts. "Mom said no."

"I know she did, but your aunt said yes. It'll be alright. It'll just take a little longer to make you strong again."

"Do I get to come back?" Laura looks from Mac to Charlie and back again.

"Yes you do." Mac says stepping forward and perching on one corner of the mat. She picks Laura's socks and shoes up off the floor and begins putting them back on the girl.

"But we have to go see the judge tomorrow, right. What if he says I have to live with Mimi?"

"Laura, even if that happens, I'm still going to pay for your therapy. I'll bring you to see Charlie myself. I don't want you to worry about that. You're going to be okay."

"Not without my brace. I need it back."

"Charlie and I are going to talk about making a new brace for you, one that fits properly, remember?"

"Do I still get it even if I don't come to live with you?"

"You do." Mac confirms, and then Charlie supplies, "It might take some time to order it, but it's coming. We'll have you ready to run races before you know it. Why don't you go over to the hospital cafeteria now with Cheryl and get a nice frozen yogurt? I want a few minutes to talk alone with your aunt." Charlie motions to Cheryl, a plump red headed woman in purple scrubs who is one of the therapy aides.

Laura looks worried as Cheryl approaches. "Am I in trouble?"

"Trouble? Of course not! You think I give yogurt to people who are in trouble?"

She smiles, and then chews on her lower lip. "Can I get chocolate and vanilla?"

"Of course. You tell 'em Charlie said to put a strawberry on top."

Laura giggles. "Okay, can Harm come too?"

"Absolutely! Your aunt will be along shortly."

With her shoes back on now, Laura rolls onto her stomach, pushes herself up onto her knees, and gives Charlie of fierce hug before crawling to the edge of the mat and reaching out for Harm.

Mac smiles at the girl as Harm scoops her up. "Save some yogurt for me." She teases as they follow the therapy aide out the door.

Charlie waits until they're gone before he speaks. "I'm afraid she's in pretty bad shape. She use to knock that little resistance test out of the park. I didn't want to say this in front of her, it would upset her, but she's lost quite a lot of strength and mobility in her left leg. "

Mac frowns, and then after a long second, she shrugs. "Okay, so what do we do to make it better?"

"First, she's got to have that brace. Without it, she walks less. Second, once she gets it, you'll have to force her to take it off every once in awhile. She will wear herself out if you don't. I want to see her twice a week at least, for half hour sessions, as opposed to once a week for an hour-long session. Right now, it would be too much for her. Three times a week would be better if you can swing it. Before the brace comes, it would help immensely if you could buy the girl a decent pair of shoes. I've told her mother repeatedly that the $15.00 shoes she buys at Wal-Mart are not what Laura needs."

"What does she need?"

"She needs a good athletic shoe; a shoe made for walking. She needs arch support and most importantly ankle support. Once the new brace comes in she'll need a new pair 1/2 size larger to accommodate for the brace. It doesn't have to be one of those ridiculously priced top of the line shoes. Forty to sixty dollars should do the trick.

Mac smiles at the man. "That's not a problem. Shoe shopping I can handle. She only wears the one brace. Does the right leg need one now?"

"No, I don't feel that's necessary at this point Ma'am, but without her brace on the left leg, she is putting strain on the right. We need to correct that as soon as possible."

"So" Mac theorizes. Once she gets the brace, she will need two different size shoes; the left ½ size bigger than a right. What do I do? Are there places to custom order shoes like that?"

There are, but one pair is so expensive that you'll do just as well buying two pairs of shoes identical to each other, one a 1/2 size bigger, in any common shoe store."

"She's been with me since Saturday night, and she hasn't worn her brace very much in all that time. I am concerned about a pressure sore forming. So, she's worn other shoes; both of them the same size. I suppose that's what Casey did; just bought two pairs of shoes. I'm sorry to say I never really paid that much attention before now."

Charlie shakes his head. "I'd be thrilled if she had. She gets one pair of shoes large enough to accommodate the brace. Laura's right shoe, has always been 1/2 size too big for her."

"It seems to me that would be a stumbling hazard. Laura doesn't need any help stumbling and she walks around in those little canvas sneakers; Keds or a cheap knockoff. They're cute, but have absolutely no support."

"Cassandra didn't want to spend much for a pair of shoes for a growing child. She told me she thought it was absurd to spend any more than $20.00 on a pair of shoes that a child will outgrow in six months. And is not that I don't see her point, it's just not what Laura needs. She needs something that will support her feet in the proper position; or at least in a better position."

"Okay, talk to me about the brace. What does she need?"

"I'd like to go with something a little less cumbersome than what she has now. That one is a dinosaur, that model isn't even manufactured anymore." Aside from the fact that it doesn't fit her any longer, it's just so heavy. All that metal on either side of her leg, the plastic enclosures, and the thick heavy padding Trouble is, the lightweight stuff is the expensive stuff. Prices can triple easily. With therapy to get her strength back, I'm confident that she could handle something that offers a little less support than what she had previously. Contrary to what most people think, and if you've spent a week with her then I'm sure you've seen this, the brace does not hold her up. That's not even what it's intended to do. It's meant to give her a little extra support so she can hold herself up. However, once she's up, she has to be strong enough to haul that heavy brace around with her. Her supination is one of her biggest problems, as far as walking goes, but she needs more than just an AFO."

Mac shakes her head and holds up a hand to stop him. "What an AFO?"

"Sorry, I get use to the lingo."

"That's okay. If I said UCMJ, BOQ, or TAD to you, you might be a little lost too, but I promise you any Marine would know exactly what I'm talking about. You don't need to apologize; just fill me in."

He smiles. "AFO stands for Ankle Foot Orthonic. It's a lightweight, plastic foot brace that usually fits inside an athletic shoe. It can extend as far as just below the knee. They are made, molded to fit the wearer and offer various types of support depending on what's needed. Laura isn't quite ready for those yet. She needs support a little higher up. That old brace of hers has a lock at the knee that has to be manually manipulated. Those things are really outdated. First of all, walking with the knee constantly in a locked, unbendable, position, may give her the support she needs to reduce falling accidents, but she must compensate by swinging the entire leg from the hip joint. Not only is this awkward to watch, it's awkward for her to do. Laura is used to it. That does help some, but prolonging this type of movement will cause hip problems later in life as she grows and her weight increases. Fortunately, she's tiny. My five year old, is 5 pounds heavier than Laura and she's almost seven now.

"Yes, I talked to her pediatrician about that. I was worried about her. Laura has my appetite, and yet she stays so… tiny; like you said. I thought something might be wrong. The doctor examined her, then talked to me and Laura as well about the kinds of food she likes to eat. She said she'd run blood test and the like if I wanted, but she thinks Laura's fine as far as her size goes. She's just small."

Charlie Waters nods. "I've seen a girl eat. There's certainly nothing wrong with her appetite, but based on that, I can see your concern. A part of her small size can still be attributed to her premature birth and the complications that came naturally with it. Don't cut down on her food unless she starts getting chubby. Just the simple act of walking across the room is difficult for her. She burns a lot of calories just doing uncomplicated things. When she says she's hungry; feed her. Just please feed her something healthier than frozen pizza and chocolate milk."

Mac chuckles, "Casey's not exactly a chef. Neither am I, for that matter but I can do better than frozen pizza and chocolate milk. With Harm around the last few days, she's eating really well. He still can't get her to eat broccoli though. She laughs at him. 'You eat the broccoli weirdo. Give me the carrots the peas …and the meat!" Mac mimics with enthusiasm.

"Ah, I take it he's a vegetarian?"

"Pretty close."

"I don't recommend a vegetarian diet for her, at least not right now. True, there are other foods that are high in protein, but her muscles are in such poor condition. You need to feed them. You might even consider getting her a supplement. Some of those protein shakes, if you can get her to drink them. Most of them taste awfully vile." he makes an unpleasant face just thinking about it.

"Back to the brace, she doesn't need an AFO right now, but what does she need?"

Charlie holds up a finger, indicating that Mac should wait a moment. He leaves the therapy room at a trot, enters a small office, and comes back with an enormous catalog. It is worn from repeated use, and is at least eight inches thick.

"Mac watches him flip through the catalog rapidly, guessing that he already knows the general placement of the brace he wants for Laura within its pages. "Is there more in that catalog than just leg braces?"

Charlie shakes his head; still flipping through.

"I had no idea there were so many." Mac comments, feeling a little dazed.

At a point ¾ of the way through the book he stops and points to one image. This one comes up high enough on the thigh that it will give her the extra support needed. But it's not quite as long as the one she has now. There are also no metal rods on either side of the leg, and no lock that requires manual manipulation at the knee. The knee will bend freely when she needs it to. It will lock if she's going to be standing in place and needs the extra support. The one drawback is that in order to lock it, a slight hyper extension of the knee is required. I'm not sure if she can manage that. I'd like to set up a demo appointment and have a representative from Freedom Orthonics come down, and bring a brace like this. It won't fit her exactly, but it will provide us with the opportunity to see if she can manage it. Hers will be custom fit. It's made mostly from lightweight plastic. It's durable, and resistant to impact. It has fewer moving parts, so it's less likely to need repair. It's less likely cause blisters from pinched skin. She'll be much more comfortable. She can even pick out a design to decorate the brace. Kids like that. If you have to wear leg braces, you at least want them to look cool. However, we should talk price. This model without any alterations starts at $700. With necessary modifications it could easily double in price. Most people can't afford that without health insurance. As custody is an issue, you can't yet put her on any health insurance you might have."

"I'm hoping that issue will be resolved about this time tomorrow. If not, don't worry about it. Even if I have to pay for it out of pocket, she's getting what she needs. Set up the demo appointment, so we can find out if she can manage the locking mechanism. Just give me a week's notice before the appointment so I can schedule leave from work. Do you mind if I look at my office calendar before scheduling therapy appointments?"

"Not at all. Just call me Monday morning."

Mac smiles and shakes the man's hand. "Anything else I need to know today?"

"I have copies of her records for you. They have detailed notes regarding her condition when she first came to see me, her prognosis, and her condition when I last saw her five months ago, and detailed descriptions of just about every conversation I've ever had with her mother regarding her needs. Take it to court with you. It certainly can't hurt, and I believe it will help. Before you go, I want to make notes about the conversation we've had today. Oh, and one other thing. When you bring her back for the demo appointment, make sure she's wearing long socks or tights. Socks hold up better. The putting on and taking off of the brace can tear up tights fairly quickly. The plastic construction of the brace, holds a minimal amount of body heat in. It causes legs to sweat and after a while, that can be uncomfortable; sweaty skin stuck in plastic. So, either long socks or lots of talc."

Mac nods. "She already complains that her leg sweats behind the padding of the old brace. I started buying her long socks months ago. She likes the toe socks and very bright colors."

Charlie motions for her to follow him to the small office where she waits for him to make notations in Laura's thick file. He makes copies, and inserts the copies in an identically hefty file before handing it to her. "It's been a pleasure meeting you Colonel. If Laura needs anything, please don't hesitate to call."


	4. Friday, August 24, 2007

**Chapter 12: He's Definitely Not 'Into' Sisters**

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Disclaimer: They still aren't mine; just in case anyone reading doesn't actually know that.

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Friday, August 24, 2007

San Diego California

1020 Hours

Laura is abnormally quiet. Harm watches her trying to decide if he should say something, and if so, what. Although she is quiet, she seems calm; sitting on the hard wooden bench beside him. She stays calm even after her grandmother arrives, although she does shift her gaze to look at him.

He gives her a reassuring smile and drops his arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. Go say hello."

Laura glances across the wide courthouse corridor at Deanne O' Hara who does smile at the girl, but she also keeps her distance. "Do I have to?" Laura inquires.

"Don't you want to?" Harm asks quietly.

Laura looks confused for a moment as if she might say yes, but then she frowns and suddenly changes her mind; shaking her head vehemently. "Not if she says I can't stay with Aunt Mac."

Sitting proudly beside Laura, dressed in an olive drab canvas vest that clearly denotes her status as a service companion, Candy puts her big head in Laura's lap and whimpers quietly; picking up on the little girl's distress.

Harm nods. He's not really sure what to say, but he doesn't feel he should force the issue. That might only make her more uneasy.

Laura strokes Candy's head gently and stays quiet until her mother arrives in the company of a corrections officer, at which point she leaves her spot beside him on the bench and climbs onto Harm's lap. He sees a myriad of emotions doing battle for dominance in the little girl's anxious eyes; fear, love, anger, resentment, and worry, all tumble and swirl in their depths. "She is coming right?" Laura wants to be reassured.

Harm hugs her tightly. "Of course she's coming." He rubs her back. "Your aunt wouldn't miss this for the world. She just had something she needed to take care of. Don't you worry! She'll be here; promise."

"What if she's late? Won't the judge be mad?" Laura whispers in a small voice.

Harm smiles. "I've known Mac for over eleven years. The only times she's ever been late something was seriously wrong." Before the last word is spoken Harm already knows he's made a mistake. This is confirmed when Laura's lower lip starts to tremble. "Hey, none of that." He whispers tenderly. "It's not time to worry yet."

"It's not?" Laura asks; a tiny spark of hope in her voice. "When is it time to worry?"

"I'll let you know when, but until I say so, big smiles okay."

Laura tries to comply but the smile falters when her mother approaches. "Hey sweet peas; it's so good to see you."

Laura frowns and crosses her arms over her small chest. "I don't like it when you call me that. I'm not a bowl of peas Mom!"

Harm eyes the tall woman in handcuffs with dirty blond hair. In his opinion, she is anorexically thin. She reeks of cheap cigarettes and he doesn't trust the syrupy sweet quality of her voice. He likes her even less when she brushes her daughter's comment aside as if it were meaningless. Instead, she smiles at him like a cat stalking a canary and purrs, "Who's your handsome friend, baby doll?"

Laura smiles up at Harm and then, he is somewhat surprised when a repugnant scowl twists her sweet face. "This is Harm. You leave him alone! He belongs to Aunt Mac!" Laura nods once; bobbing her chin for emphasis.

Harm chuckles at the girl's turn of phrase; charmed. Her mother, on the other hand, laughs crudely; eyeing him with an even keener interest. "You belong to Sarah; do you?" she purrs again.

"Something like that Miss O'Hara." He answers coolly; almost as if he's bored.

"Oh honey, do call me Casey; won't you?"

Still not impressed with the woman, and starting to feel uncomfortable in her presence, Harm thinks, Mac, where the hell are you?

As if on cue, the woman on his mind turns a nearby corner in the corridor wearing a worried expression. When she sees the unhappy look on Laura's face she puts whatever it is that she is worried about into check and forces a bright smile. Observing her sister's posture and the uncomfortable look on Harm's face, the smile becomes somewhat brittle.

Harm says quietly to Laura, "Told you she wouldn't be late." He sets the girl on her feet, repositions her nearby walker for her, and then rises to his own feet. "Excuse me please… Miss O'Hara" he adds pointedly.

By the time he makes it to Mac's side she has already scooped Laura up in her arms and the girl is hugging her tightly. "Harm said you wouldn't be late. He said it wasn't time to worry yet." Laura tells Mac as if she'd never been concerned.

"Me? Late? For this? Not a chance!"

"Everything okay?" Harm asks quietly out of the side of his mouth.

She answers him in much the same fashion. "I have a problem Petty Officer. Nothing I can't handle. I'll tell you about it later. I see you've met my sister."

"I'm afraid so." Harm tells her; still talking out of the side of his mouth. Before he can say more, a door opens and a court officer steps into the corridor. "All parties present to attend the placement hearing of Laura O' Hara, please step forward."

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Author's note: I know; it's short... And it's a teaser too. But I need a short break. I'm hungry! I will be writing more tonight. I promise. Please remember that reviews feed the muse. Thanks!

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**Chapter 13: Mac's Testimony**

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Author's note: I don't know why, but this melody is stuck in my head all of a sudden. So, I'm sharing. "I am pressed but not crushed. Persecuted; not abandoned. Struck down, but not destroyed. I am blessed beyond your curse, for his promise will endure, and his joy is gonna be my strength."

If you've ever heard the tune, it's probably stuck in your head now too. Don't you just love me?

Disclaimer: All the usual mumbo jumbo goes here. 'big smile'!

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Friday, August 24, 2007

San Diego California

1025 Hours

Mac picks up Laura's walker, only to have Harm take it from her a second later. "I've got this." He says; picking up the end of Candy's leash in the other hand. As they follow the court officer into an outer office the woman explains, "Judge Dubose thought it might be better to meet in chambers, as opposed to the courtroom. I'm Theresa Nelligan. Come right this way." She crosses the outer office and taps lightly twice against the judge's chamber door.

Laura gives Mac a very confused look. "We aren't going to court?" she asks as they cross the threshold.

"Yes, we are. The judge just wants to have court in his chamber instead of the courtroom. We're still going to do the same thing though."

"Aww man!" Laura protests. "I wanted to go to the courtroom! Wait… What's a chamber?" Laura asks a little nervously.

Mac lowers her voice as the judge rises to his feet behind his desk. "Chamber is just another word for a judge's office" she answers in a hushed tone and then gives her attention to him. "Your honor."

"Colonel Sarah Mackenzie; I presume." He asks taking in the sight of her uniform.

"Yes Sir and this is Laura."

As he greets her, Laura takes in the sight of the portly judge in shirtsleeves and tie with his cotton white buzz cut, and his polished cowboy boots. "Hello Laura. Everybody else in this room has to call me Sir or your honor. You get to call me Wayne." He tells her with a crooked smile and a thick Texas drawl.

The little girl had been on the verge of asking a question but his announcement stops her. She looks from him to her aunt and then back to him again. "Are you sure? Aunt Mac said I had to call you your honor… Or Sir."

"That's usually true Laura." Mac supplies. "But it's okay to use his name since he gave you permission."

Laura tilts her head to one side and stares at the man curiously. "You don't look like a judge." She declares with innocent honesty. "Where's your robe?"

He chuckles, and points to a coat stand in the corner of the office. I only wear it when I actually go into the courtroom. I don't like feeling like I'm walking around in a dress."

Laura giggles.

When everyone else has filed into the room Theresa Nelligan closes the door behind them and takes up her post. She leans against the door frame crossing her feet at the ankles. For a moment, the judge turns his attention to the others in the room. "Sit, sit. Everyone take a seat." He orders; taking his own seat. "I'll get to you people soon. Right now, I'm going to take a moment to get to know Miss Laura."

It takes a moment or two of shuffling chairs around inside the small office to get everyone seated, when everyone has settled, the judge asks her. "So, how can I help you today Laura?"

"You can say that I can go live with Aunt Mac." Laura states simply; coming right to the point."

The judge nods, folding his hands together and placing his two index fingers against his lips as if he's thinking. "The thing is Laura; I can't just say that. I have to do what's best for you. So, here's what's gonna happen. First, I'm gonna talk to everybody in this room and everybody's gonna have their turn to talk to me. We're all going to behave like nice civilized people. Anyone who doesn't behave that way is going to spend a night in jail; held for contempt of court. So everyone, especially the adults, had better behave. After everyone is done talking, if going to live with your aunt is what's best for you, then that's what I'll say."

Laura nods slowly; letting his words sink in. Harm wonders if the mention of contempt of court and a night in jail is troubling the girl, but she has other things on her mind. "Okay, but does it count if we don't go to the courtroom."

The judge chuckles. "I promise; it counts." He watches Laura frown for a second or two, and then the girl shrugs. "You're disappointed. You really did want to go to the courtroom; didn't you?"

Laura nods; her eyes going big.

The judge chuckles again and looks at his court officer who offers him a smile and an 'I told you so.' shrug. "Well that's what I get for thinking." He announces slapping his palms against his knees and coming to his feet.

"I don't understand." Laura tells him.

"Sometimes people your age are a little intimidated by my big old courtroom. I thought you'd probably be more comfortable here."

Laura wrinkles her nose and squints at him from her place in Mac's lap. "I don't know what that word means. What's intimidated?" She asks; pronouncing the word carefully.

"If something intimidates you, it makes you a little bit scared."

Laura shakes her head emphatically. "Aunt Mac talks to judges and goes to court a lot. She says it's not so scary. She says you just have to tell the truth; even if you don't like the truth."

"That's right." He affirms. You think you can do that?"

She nods; again with the same wide eyes.

"Okay. We'll go to the courtroom." he says; retrieving and donning his robe. "And on the way, will you tell me about your furry friend?"

Theresa Nelligan leads them out of the room as Laura answers, "That's Candy. She is my service dog. She helps me with stuff."

"Like what stuff?" the judge asks; falling into step beside Mac so he can maintain eye contact with the girl.

"If I don't have my walker, she'll let me lean on her. She'll walk with me and she picks up stuff I drop. I don't have to fall over trying to get it myself. If I get hurt, she'll stay with me and bark really loud until somebody comes to help. And she stays with me and keeps me company when things get scary."

Making an effort to sound casual, the judge asks, "When do things get scary?"

"When Mom fights with her stupid boyfriends."

"Does that happen a lot?"

Laura nods quietly.

Noticing her sudden silence, the judge returns to the safer topic as he approaches the end of the corridor. "So she's a very important dog. Think I can get me a dog like her?" he asks with a grin.

"No silly. The dog trainer said that if you don't need a dog like Candy, then you have to buy one, and they're really expensive. I got Candy for free, 'cause I need her. Aunt Mac helped me get her."

"Really? How did she help?"

"If you get a dog like Candy, you have to go to training, and you have to go to lots of meetings, and fill out lots of papers, and you have to promise to take really good care of her. Aunt Mac took me to training, and she filled out all the papers and she helps me take Candy to the vet so she doesn't get sick, and to the store, you know, to buy dog food and good girl biscuits for treats."

The judge nods as he pushes open a wide heavy door. "Well, here we are."

Mac steps into the room with Laura in her arms and watches the girl's expression shift from curiosity to wonder. It's not a fancy courtroom like the ones you see on TV. The linoleum floor is badly scuffed and in need of a good waxing. The wooden tables and chairs are old and battered. There is no formal jury box; only a row of uncomfortable looking metal chairs lined up against one wall. At the farthest point from the door there is the customary judge's bench, witness stand, and two flags; one for the state of California and one for the United States, along the wall behind the bench.

Despite the lack of mahogany paneled walls, or giant seal on the floor, or general splendor, Laura's awe is plainly evidence in her shining dark eyes.

"Laura, you pick which table you want to sit at." the judge says, making his way to the bench.

They all file in through the wooden gate that separates the court's gallery from the rest of the room. Laura looks around and selects the table on the left. That's where Harm and Mac come to stand along with Laura and her faithful sidekick, the two adults unconsciously adopting their familiar at ease posture from long years of habit. Having already been lowered to the floor in front of her own seat, Laura studies Mac's posture eagerly and tries to emulate her aunt as best she can; keeping one small hand on the table's edge for support

Deanne and Cassandra O'Hara take the table on the right by default along with Casey's lawyer. A social services caseworker remains in the gallery and Theresa Nelligan makes herself as comfortable as possible in one of the seats intended for jury members. Upon orders from the judge the correction officer removes Casey's handcuffs before taking her own seat in the first row of the gallery; directly behind Casey.

Judge Wayne Dubose's first order of business is a stern warning to Laura's mother who is already seated. As the judge begins to speak, her lawyer takes her elbow and silently but firmly encourages her to stand. "The removal of your handcuffs, Miss O'Hara, is a courtesy; not a right. Make me unhappy and you'll find yourself wearing them again. Cause any trouble in my courtroom and Officer Nelligan here has my permission to shoot you. Do you understand?"

"Yeah." Casey answers as if she's bored.

"I beg your pardon."

Casey glares at him with resentment in her eyes, but she stands up a little straighter and tries again. "Yes your honor."

"Good." he shifts his attention to the woman standing stiffly beside Casey. "I assume you are Deanne O'Hara."

"Yes Sir." she answers quietly.

"And your name Sir? The judge shifts his gaze to the table across the aisle and gives an appreciative smile to the individuals there when he sees they're still standing. "I appreciate the respect people, but this isn't a military courtroom. You can relax… A little."

"We'll try to Judge. It's habit. I'm Captain Harmon Rabb Jr."

"I see. Are you her lawyer?"

"I am a lawyer. Colonel Mackenzie is more than capable of acting on her own behalf. I'm here as a friend of the family. Laura's welfare is of great interest to me."

"Very well." the judge says; pausing to give the couple a speculative glance. "Be seated please."

There is a momentary clatter about the room as chair legs scrape the floor and people settle in. The judge awaits the usual amount of time before clearing his throat and beginning.

"Now, I have reviewed what is already known about this case. The facts are as follows: at approximately 5:15 this past Saturday, August 18, 2007 Miss Cassandra O'Hara became involved in a domestic dispute while in her home with her boyfriend one Mr. Derek Cardwell. The dispute became physically violent. The minor child, Laura O'Hara, was on the premises and phoned her aunt, Colonel Sarah Mackenzie, and asked to be removed from the residence in question. Local authorities were called and arrived in due time. When they attempted to arrest Mr. Caldwell for assaulting Miss Cassandra O'Hara"… He pauses to look pointedly at her. "Your response, young lady, was to assault the officer trying to assist you. Subsequently, he is hospitalized for the treatment of burns, and you are being held over, without bail, to stand trial for this assault. Does that about sum it up?"

"She had no right to take Laura out of the trailer Judge."

"That's not an acceptable answer to the question I asked you Miss O'Hara. Things will go a lot smoother for you here if you answer the question you're asked, when you're asked. Now, are these the facts of this case?"

"Yes Sir," she replies sullenly.

"Very well then. That means it's my job to decide where your daughter lives during your subsequent incarceration; and possibly even after your release… So behave yourself. Is there anything you'd like to say about the proceedings here in this courtroom today?"

"Yeah. I don't think she should be allowed to show up here dressed like that. You said it yourself Judge; this isn't a military courtroom. Why did she show up in uniform? What? Is she trying to suck up to the judge?"

"Tread very carefully Miss O'Hara. Are you implying that this judge is so easily manipulated as to be swayed by nothing more than mere fabric?"

"I meant no offense Judge, but my lawyer told me she's on vacation …Or leave; whatever they call it." Cassandra adds the last bit snidely

"Colonel? Care to offer an explanation?"

"Yes your honor. My sister is correct. Technically, I am on leave, but there was a situation at my office this morning that required my personal attention. As I had to go to my office in a professional capacity, I dressed the part. Things took a little longer than I expected them to. My options were to go home, change, and risk being late for court; or to arrive on time as I am."

"That's good enough for me."

"Anything else Miss O'Hara? Anything important?" He adds in a stern tone.

"I still say she had no right to take Laura out of the trailer.'

"Miss O'Hara. The police department gave me photographs of what the inside of your trailer looked like after this little tete-a-tete. As I understand it, your daughter was hiding in her bedroom while all of this was taking place. It is completely inappropriate for you to think that exposing a child of her age, of any age, to this deplorable sort of behavior is acceptable! Even if she was not physically injured, have you any idea the psychological damage that witnessing something like that can do to a child. Stop acting as if your sister kidnapped your daughter. Prior to leaving your residence, she made certain that the police and child welfare officials knew exactly where Laura would be. Where is Pamela Jensen?" he asks looking around the room.

The social services worker in the gallery stands up. "I'm here your honor."

"Were you given adequate information about Laura's whereabouts and care following her removal from the scene?"

"Absolutely your honor."

"Did Colonel Mackenzie attempt, at any point, to evade or obviate your authority?"

"On the contrary Sir. I'm quite use to that sort of behavior. Colonel Mackenzie was nothing but cooperative. Laura was already in the back seat of her car when I arrived at the residence in question. She gave me all pertinent information. She verified who she is, as did her mother, Ms. Deanne O'Hara. I visited her home the following Monday evening, at which point I was introduced to Captain Rabb. Hers is a small but comfortable home; more than adequate for the care of young Laura. I found Laura to be in good spirits, well fed, clean, and generally well looked after. She did seem a bit nervous, but that's to be expected under the circumstances."

"Just so I'm clear Ms. Jensen, to which circumstances are you referring?"

"Your honor, Saturday night was not the first time I've been called to the O'Hara residence. Laura knows me. She's a very bright little girl. She understands that my presence at her home is not a good thing. She knows it likely means that she will be staying in the care of child welfare. Laura has been removed from my mother's care three times in the past four years. She was first removed, immediately following her premature birth when her tox screen came back positive for narcotics. That was her longest stay with us. She was in Foster Care the first eight months of her life.

"So Miss O'Hara's neglect of her daughter is longstanding?"

"I've barely scratched the surface Judge."

"Ms. Jensen, if that's true, then why has Laura been repeatedly returned to her mother's care."

"Judge, Laura is not physically abused. She is neglected. There is no doubt about that. However, the child welfare system is overrun. By saying that, I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, but you may not know that this week alone I have one child in ICU with a badly fractured skull. His father hit him with a 20 pound weight because he left his bicycle out in rain the same night I went to Laura's home. I have another child, a little girl two years older than Laura, whose grandmother beat her with a hot clothing iron. There are too many children and not enough homes to place them in. The most critical cases get priority placement. It's a lousy argument Sir, but we're doing the best we can."

"Your best is not nearly good enough." he says, not as a condemnation, but as a simple statement of fact.

"No your honor; it's not." Pamela Jensen concurs with a heavy heart. She pauses before continuing, "I think you should be aware Sir that Colonel Mackenzie got her niece out of the O'Hara residence before police arrived. She did it unassisted and with considerable risk to her own personal safety. Forgive me for this your honor, but it takes somebody with one hell of a backbone to willfully walk into a house in the throes of a domestic free- for-all. Her dedication to Laura's safety is paramount."

The judge's eyes dart to Mac's face. "Is this true Colonel?"

"It is Sir."

"That was terribly risky."

"Yes Sir. I'd do it again your honor..."

The man on the bench raises an eyebrow. "Go on. Say whatever it is you're holding back."

Mac chooses her words carefully. "I know what it's like to be the little girl hiding in the closet when the world outside your bedroom door explodes."

He studies her quietly for several long seconds before he asks, "Your family has a history of domestic violence?"

"Sadly." is her simple reply.

"Have you ever been in an abusive relationship yourself Colonel?"

"Not a physically abusive relationship." she answers; clarifying. "My relationship with my former husband wasn't exactly healthy- mentally or emotionally- but that was a long time ago. I've learned not to tolerate those kinds of relationships."

"Your sister has asked the court to place Laura with your mother. What's your opinion of this request?"

"Sir, I think granting such a request would be… ill-advised."

"Elaborate please."

"It is my opinion, your honor, that my mother is neither physically, emotionally, or financially capable of properly caring for Laura."

"Why not?"

"Because of her own health concerns, my mother lives on disability. Not that it's impossible to care for a child while receiving government assistance, but I believe the obvious financial constraint speaks for itself, especially when you consider that Laura has some very costly needs of her own. She already needs a new leg brace. She's outgrown the old one. It no longer fits, and is rubbing a pressure sore on her hip. The brace that her physical therapist recommends as a replacement will likely cost somewhere shy of two grand. Laura currently has no health insurance, although I have taken steps to correct this problem. Children her age usually have growth spurts. She could outgrow the new brace I'm getting her in less than a year. If she does, it's also likely that she'll need a new walker as well. The one she has now is already set on the top height adjustment. Laura also needs intensive physical therapy to regain the strength that she has lost since her mother pulled her out of therapy five months ago. That too, will be costly. Then there are my concerns about my mother's physical ability to care for Laura. Laura often becomes tired because of her own disability. She often needs to be picked up, physically held, or supported. She's a small child. Yesterday at the pediatrician's office, she was put on the scale. She weighs 39 pounds. Her pediatrician and her physical therapist would both like to see her 10 pounds heavier. I question my mother's ability to carry her across the room now; let alone 10 pounds from now. Finally, my most pressing concern is my mother's emotional stability. She was married to an abusive husband for more than 16 years, and I'm not without compassion" Mac adds with tenderness. "But she hasn't been with Joe Mackenzie for 23 years and yet somehow he's still very much with her in spite of the fact that he died nearly eight years ago. My mother is the only parent Casey has ever known and she lives her life in fear. If you want to know what that will do to a child you need look no further than my sister. I want to stop this hideous cycle... for Laura. She deserves a home where she can feel safe. She deserves a home where she can be safe."

"Where exactly does Captain Rabb fit into all this." the judge wants to know.

Mac opens her mouth to speak, but stops short. She offers Harm a brief smile before addressing the judge again. "Sir, with your permission, I'd like to let Captain Rabb speak for himself."

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Author's note: Please don't send me nasty messages for stopping here. I need a break… And I know some of you were waiting on pins and needles. So here's the next part. I'm going to take a short break, walk the dog, and raid a box or two in search of chocolate. Give me an hour, and I promise to continue. Please remember that reviews feed the muse. Thanks!

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**Chapter 14: Harm's Testimony**

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Author's note: It's very short, but it took me a long time to get it this way. I need a box of Kleenex and a hug! Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Okay, so they still aren't mine, but I seriously doubt DPB could do better.

Friday, August 24, 2007

San Diego California

1053 Hours

In the moment that follows Mac's testimony Harm takes command of the room; rising slowly to his feet. Mac recognizes his stalling tactic from long experience. As he steps around the corner of the table and perches lightly on the opposite edge, appearing to play to the crowd, what he's really doing is collecting his thoughts; choosing his words. For just a moment, he turns, offering Laura a smile and a wink. The little girl smiles back. He is the sole focus of every eye in the room. Even Laura's dog, who had been dozing lazily on the floor beside the table yawns once, picks up her head, and pricks her ears…waiting for something to happen.

God, Mac thinks, a slight smile gracing the corners of her mouth before he even begins, I miss watching him do this.

"If it pleases the court, Colonel Sarah Mackenzie and myself have a longstanding and impenetrable friendship that we've only just recently allowed to become something more; something it should have become long ago. We've faced both peace and war together… and we've faced them apart. We've spent enough time apart to come to understand that neither of us cares for being away from the other. One week ago today I had no idea I'd be here, in a courtroom hoping to convince a judge to give Mac custody of a child I had never met. One week ago today I hadn't yet begun to imagine the possibility of welcoming another child into my life. However, today, there's no place I'd rather be. Laura O'Hara needs a stable home life; one which I would consider it a privilege and an honor to be a part of. Furthermore, were I given the opportunity to choose any woman in this world to raise a child with…" Harm leaves his perch on the edge of the table and moves to stand beside Mac. With the unwavering attention of every soul in the room, he rests a hand tenderly upon her shoulder. "It would be this woman."

He pauses briefly, lending weight to his words as he swallows the lump rising in his throat before moving to stand behind Laura. With equal tenderness, he places both of his hands on either of her slender shoulders. "Laura needs compassion, attention, love, and guidance. She needs and deserves to have two parents who will show her that not every disagreement ends with tears, foul language, and bloodshed; or with someone who matters to her going to jail."

Harm pauses once more, letting his words take effect, before moving forward. "I believe Deanne O'Hara loves her granddaughter, but based on my experience with her, it's not in Laura's best interest to live with her. She needs many of the same things her granddaughter needs. It's foolish to think that she can give Laura the peace of mind that she herself doesn't appear to have. There is no one who better knows the road that Laura has been on than the Colonel, your honor. Mac has already walked the long and difficult road that lies ahead of Laura. She has fought hard and earned the place in life she holds today. There is no one better suited than this accomplished Marine to show Laura the path to the healthier, happier, life she both needs and deserves. Laura couldn't possibly have a better role model or guardian."

As Harm moves to return to his seat; he concludes. "Laura needs her aunt. She needs Sarah Mackenzie."

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**Chapter 15: Laura's Testimony - Calamity Strikes**

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Author's note: This story just keeps getting longer and longer, but it all seems so important. As long as you fine people keep reading, I'll keep writing.

Disclaimer: Okay, so they still aren't mine, but I really don't care!

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Friday, August 24, 2007

San Diego California

1058 Hours

In the immediate wake of his testimony, no one speaks. Most of the adults in the room look slightly dazed, even Laura seems a little awe struck. Deanne O'Hara actually manages to smile at Harm; a small hesitant smile, but nonetheless a smile. Cassandra looks at her sister, bewilderment clearly present in her startled eyes; the younger woman looks slightly green around the gills. With her emotions caught in a stranglehold, Mac looks around the room and notices that Pamela Jensen, the child services employee and Theresa Nelligan, the court officer who earlier was given permission to shoot Cassandra if she caused any trouble, both look a little misty eyed.

Damn it! She thinks as unshed tears sting her own eyes. Just to keep the flow at bay, with a subtle movement that only the judge notices, she reaches out and lightly pinches Harm just below the elbow; inciting his raised eyebrow. As the judge clears his throat, Mac leans over and whispers, "I love you too Harm, but didn't anyone ever tell you, it's not nice to make a Marine cry… especially not in public!"

For a moment he doesn't breathe. Damn! He thinks; flashing his customary flyboy grin. She said it again!

Laura smiles wryly, shaking her head, and then covers her eyes with her small hands.

Noticing this, the judge inquires, "What's the matter Miss Laura?"

"They look all dopey again Mr. Wayne. Like they're gonna kiss. They looked the same way yesterday after they had a fight." Laura rolls her eyes.

In perfect harmony, both Mac and Harm respond; "Laura that was not a fight. That was a disagreement."

Giggling, Laura shrugs and ignores both of them. She tells the judge, "This is better. At least Harm didn't yell this time."

The judge raises an eyebrow and Mac groans inwardly. "Your honor, it was a minor disagreement that turned out to be very important because we scared Laura in the process. Harm and I both figured out that we just aren't going to be able to do that in front of her at least not until she knows the difference between, and is comfortable with, our occasionally raised voices as opposed to the knockdown drag outs her mother seems to have a penchant for."

The judge pats the air with his left hand, indicating that she should stop. "Be quiet for a moment Colonel." he turns his attention back to Laura. "They had an argument?"

Laura nods emphatically.

"What was the argument about?"

"Umm.." She wrinkles her nose. "I know I have to tell the truth, but is it okay it I say I'm not sure. 'Cause I'm not."

"That's Fine Laura. Even if you don't understand what the argument was about, can you tell me some of what they said?"

Laura frowns and wrinkles her forehead; thinking hard. "First, Aunt Mac was yelling because Harm doesn't wanna fly anymore since his daughter died. I don't know why that's worth yelling about. And Harm yelled back. He said he didn't know why it was so important either. Then Aunt Mac told him she loves him and called him an idiot. It was really confusing and scary. Confusing because, Mom never says I love you when she's mad. She only says I love you when she wants something. It was scary because Mom never yells without hitting somebody. But, they don't act like Mom. When we went inside Aunt Mac slammed the door. Harm stayed outside for a few minutes, but when he came in he was yelling again. We were in the bathroom, and I told Aunt Mac to lock the door 'cause I was scared. She said I didn't have to be scared. She said he wasn't yelling because he was mad; not anymore, but I didn't care. Harm said to lock him out if it would make me not be scared anymore. She did and then she told me that sometimes they yell at each other, but they never hurt each other and they'll never hurt me. Then it wasn't so scary no more. It was kinda cool!" Laura bobs her head emphatically.

"They yelled… And that's all! Nobody broke nothin', or threw anything. Nobody cried. Nobody got any bruises. They didn't even say any bad words." Laura shrugs. "It was weird…" so I said Aunt Mac could unlock the door. Harm even said he'd leave if I wanted him to, but Aunt Mac said she wanted to hug him so I said he could stay. He said he loves Aunt Mac too, and then they got all dopey; kinda like they are now. They're really weird Judge Wayne, I don't understand them, but I like 'em."

Judge Wayne Dubose had started chewing on his lower lip about the time Laura announced that they were 'kinda cool' when she concludes with 'I don't understand them, but I like 'em' he throws back his head and laughs with abandon.

Frowning, Laura tips her head to one side. "Hey! What's so funny? I'm being serious here!" which causes several people in the courtroom to join in on the laughter.

Trying to compose himself, the judge explains "Laura, darlin' we are all laughing because you're very charming. Try not to be so serious though. It's not really good for six year old little girls to be so serious."

Undaunted, Laura declares matter-of-factly, "I'm almost seven."

"Oh really? Well, that makes all the difference." The judge smiles lightheartedly. Adopting a more serious tone, he asks, "So what happened after they got all dopey?"

"Then we went to see Dr. Abigail and Charlie." she says happily.

The judge looks to Mac for clarification and she answers, "Dr. Abigail Pressman, her pediatrician, and Charlie Waters, her physical therapist."

"Is she ill?"

"No your honor. I just wanted to gather as much information as possible about Laura so that I can make informed decisions about her care. In the last week, I've seen her pediatrician and her physical therapist. I've seen two former school teachers so that I can get a feel for where she's at scholastically. I'm also in the process of applying for health benefits for Laura so that no matter where she is placed she will have access to the health care and the equipment she needs."

"Colonel, can you verify all this?"

"Of course Sir."

A wide leather briefcase sits on the floor at Harm's end of the table. He picks it up and stands it upright on the table. Mac releases the brass catches and has to reach into the case three times to remove all the paperwork inside it. She divides it all into three neatly organized stacks.

"Good heavens!" the judge exclaims. "Is that all for one little girl!"

Laura giggles. "Charlie says someday he's gonna write a book about me."

"From the looks of it, he already has." The judge declares dryly.

"Which would you like first your honor; her pediatrician's records, her therapist's records, or her school records?"

The judge waves both hands in a come-hither gesture. "Bring it all to me, and you people go get some lunch while I read the Book of Laura. While Harm and Mac carry stacks of paperwork to the bench, Judge Dubose lightly taps his gavel. "Court is in recess for one hour."

* * *

**Chapter 16: Court Is Adjourned**

* * *

Author's note: Okay, the one we've all been waiting for. After posting this, I'm going to bed early. Not to worry though, there will be more tomorrow.

Also, the following courtroom scene is extremely relaxed. Although I changed his name for the sake of anonymity, "Judge Wayne" is a real-life close personal friend. He tends to let children under the age of ten run the show in his courtroom...within limits of course. Whatever it takes to make the tiny humans comfortable. With kids approaching puberty, he does stiffen up... a bit.

Disclaimer: Okay, so they still aren't mine. Who cares?

* * *

Friday, August 24, 2007

San Diego California

1225 Hours

Settling in his seat the judge addresses his courtroom once more. "I trust everybody had a good lunch. Let's all try not to fall asleep now that our stomachs are full."

"My tummy's not full." Laura answers happily. "My tummy's never full!"

"Laura, doesn't your aunt feed you?"

She nods vehemently. "I had a cheeseburger, french fries, and a big bowl of vegetables soup for lunch. The yogurt machine in the cafeteria is broken, so I ate an oatmeal cookie and some pears for dessert."

Amazed, Judge Dubose stares down at her from his bench. "Is she serious? The cheeseburgers in the courthouse cafeteria are enormous."

"Harm chuckles. "Yes Sir. She has her aunt's appetite. It defies logic. I can't figure out where they put it. If I ate the way either one of them does, you'd need a forklift to get me in here."

"Hey, I ate vegetable soup too." Laura objects and then asks, "Who goes next Judge Wayne? My new shoes are making my feet hurt, so I need to go home soon."

"Your feet hurt? Are your shoes the wrong size?"

Already taking Laura shoes off, Mac answers," No, your honor. Yesterday, Charlie Waters told me that until Laura gets her new leg brace, it would help her tremendously if I bought her a decent pair of walking shoes. I bought her three pair yesterday evening. Part of the problem is that the new shoes support her better than what she was wearing before which makes her eager to walk more. However, her muscles are weakened from lack of therapy. Cassandra pulled her out of therapy five months ago. Additionally, the better quality shoes hold her foot in a more appropriate position. The muscles in her ankles are not use to this so, after awhile, they start to ache. She just needs time to adjust and get stronger. The only way to slow her down in the interim is to make her take the shoes off and rest every couple of hours. It's a balancing act. I don't want her to overdo it and at the same time, she needs to wear the shoes as much as possible to increase her stamina; especially before school starts. She'll need to be able to get the day."

"Yes" he answers. "I saw several notations in her file. Apparently, he requested numerous times that her mother buy her shoes that would actually meet her needs." The judge eyes Laura's loud lime green high top sneakers. "Are those shoes better Laura?"

"Way better! It easier to walk, or even just stand up! I got these, some white ones, and some ones that are orange and purple. Aunt Mac likes to shop for shoes; even if they aren't her shoes! She picked the kind that Charlie told her to get, but I got to pick the colors myself!"

"And I see you like bright colors"

Laura's happy eyes go wide and she nods with vigor.

The judge turns his attention to her mother. "Can you please tell me why Laura's therapist made notations about asking you to get Laura better shoes on eight separate occasions?"

"Are you kidding? Do you know how much those things cost? She's gonna outgrow them in six months. If my sister really bought three pair of those things she dropped $200. I can't afford that."

The judge shifts his eyes to the other side of the aisle again?"

"Colonel? How much did you spend on shoes for Laura yesterday?"

"Your honor, I didn't bring the receipt with me, but it was $140 and some change. Two of the pairs were part of a buy one, get one ½ price special."

"Miss O'Hara, you stink of cigarette smoke. How much do you spend every month on cigarettes?"

"I don't know." she answers like an annoyed teenager.

"How much does one pack cost?"

"Almost $7.00."

"At one pack a day, you'd only have to go one week without cigarettes to buy your daughter a pair of shoes. Shoes, I might add, that she needs! If you smoke more than one pack a day, all you would need to do is cut back. Now, if you're so short on funds, please explain to me why this child doesn't at least have Medicaid. I'm quite certain she qualifies. Why is her aunt the one attempting to sign her up? This should already be done! Your daughter has some very serious needs that you clearly aren't capable of financing. So, why haven't you done this?"

"All that government assistance sounds great Judge. Nobody tells you that you'll drive yourself crazy trying to figure it out or that you'll spend half your life filling out paperwork. I don't have the patience for that crap!"

"Miss O'Hara, stand up!"

Cassandra looks shocked. "What for?"

"What for? Because I'm the judge and I said so!"

She complies nervously.

"Good! Now look at your daughter!"

Cassandra turns with the posture of a bored teenager."

"Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me that your daughter isn't worth a little paperwork? Are you really going to stand there and tell me that this little girl isn't worth a damn airplane hangar filled, floor to ceiling, front to back, with paperwork and all the headaches that comes with it?"

Wordlessly, she shrugs.

"Sit down!"

"What?"

"Sit down Miss O'Hara! I am done with you!" he barks, and then lowers his voice when he catches sight of Laura's wide eyed expression. "If I have my way about it, you won't get your daughter back even after you're released from jail… And you should know, it's a very rare occasion that I don't get my way!"

"Laura darlin' it's okay. I'm done yellin' now. I just don't like it when parents don't take care of their kids. It makes me mad."

"That's okay." Laura whispers. "I get mad sometimes too." she shrugs as if she is okay with this, but then just to be on the safe side, she scoots out of her chair, moving very carefully on the linoleum floor in her stocking feet. Without words, she gently pokes Harm below the shoulder a few times, and then waits for him to slide his chair back from the table and pick her up. Harm complies with nothing more than a smile. Laura looks at the judge, "I'm okay now. You can yell some more if you want to."

Instead of yelling, Judge Dubose turns his attention to Laura's grandmother. "If Laura is placed with you, as your daughter wants, how are you going to afford the things she needs?"

"I won't be able to without help." The woman answers quietly and truthfully. Cassandra wants her with me because I've known her longer than Sarah has… Well, that and to be honest, Cassandra doesn't particularly like Sarah. I think she resents the fact that Sarah seems to be doing so much better than her. She's also a jealous of Sarah's relationship with Laura."

"Mom; shut up!" Cassandra growls ominously.

"Miss O'Hara!" The judge bangs his gavel and Laura jumps. "Well; damn it!" he says gruffly. "Theresa come here!" His court officer gets up and walks promptly but casually to the bench. When she arrives, he hands her his gavel. "Take this damn thing away from me!"

Laura giggles.

Theresa Nelligan walks to their table and lays the gavel down in front of Laura. "Here sweetheart, the next time he yells you give the desk a good whack!" With a wink and a smile, she leans in close and in a loud stage whisper she adds," It's okay with me if you throw it at him!"

Laura giggles again; shaking her head theatrically.

Returning to her seat, she intones "Lucky for you Judge, she's sweeter than that pack of hoodlums you had in here yesterday."

The judge ignores his court officer and it's comically clear to both Mac and Harm that these two people have worked together for a very long time.

Without a gavel to bang, the judge glares at Laura's mother. "Young lady, you speak to your mother that way again in my presence and I will see to it that you spend three days in solidarity confinement!"

Cassandra O'Hara opens her mouth to speak but is cut off. "It was a statement Miss O'Hara; not a question. No response is required. In fact, it would please me greatly if you didn't speak again for the duration of your time in my courtroom." The judge addresses Deanne O'Hara once more. Calm once again, he asks "Have you ever met any of Laura's teachers?"

She shakes her head.

How about her pediatrician; Dr. Pressman, or her physical therapist; Charlie Waters?"

"Just the pediatrician Judge; not the therapist."

"Ms. O'Hara, I've reviewed Laura's medical file. The Colonel highlighted several passages that were filled with pertinent information to make them easy to find. So, I know she's read the file. Have you?"

Again, she shakes her head.

"Can you define ataxia, supination, high tone pronation, or gross motor function?"

Deanne O'hara shakes her head for the third time.

Mac stands up. "Your honor, with all due respect Sir, I didn't know what most of those words or phrases meant until 24 hours ago myself."

"Colonel I didn't know what most of those words or phrases meant until 15 minutes ago. When you handed me those files, I needed a Physicians' Desk Reference and a medical dictionary just to get through page one. Your sister's argument is that your mother knows Laura better, because she's known her to longer. You've have Laura for six days and based on your notes in the margins of those files you could easily define every one of those words and a few dozen more. Your mother's had nearly seven years."

"Laura honey, you're going home… With your aunt!"

Laura beams, giggles, and doesn't know who to hug first. She hugs Harm because he's closest and then scampers over the arms of chairs to get to Mac. No sooner than she has her arms around Mac, she's reaching for Harm again.

"You can't do that!" Casey screams; coming to her feet so violently that she turns both her chair and the table in front of her over. In the process, she nearly turns over her lawyer's chair. The man barely manages to get clear of her. "She's a drunk!" Casey's face is nearly plum-colored with rage. The room falls silent. The young woman's body appears to vibrate with the sheer force of her anger.

Even across the aisle, Mac and Harm crowd around Laura; keeping her small body between both of theirs and hugging her tightly.

Theresa Nelligan and the corrections officer who arrived with Cassandra are both on their feet instantly, closing the distance between themselves and her; pushing her to the floor.

When the noise dies, Mac is not surprised to see her mother in a far corner of the room; her back pressed to the wall, but before Mac can react to that, Laura whales. "That's not fair, and it's not true either. She's lying!" the little girl looks to the judge who has gone to stand beside her frightened grandmother.

"Judge Wayne" Laura sobs. "Mom drinks beer every day; lots of beer! Aunt Mac doesn't drink any beer anymore. She stopped. She told me so."

The judge eyes Mac with concern. "Colonel?"

"Your honor, I haven't had a drink in nine years and five months." she says simply.

With her sister back in handcuffs and physically forced to sit in her chair by the two firm hands on her shoulders; the judge passes a long hard look between the two women. The one in handcuffs glares at him as if she might like to bite him. The full bird Colonel stands straight and tall. Rubbing her niece's back; she silently and calmly awaits his decision. The judge gives Laura one last crooked smile. "Are you still here darlin'? Take your aunt and your friend Harm and go home. Court is adjourned."

* * *

Author's note: Did you really think it would go any other way?

Also, my sincerest apologies. I got edit happy last night and deleted something I shouldn't have. You will find that, in the next section, chapters 18 - 23 are missing. I could cry! Not to mention bang my head against the wall! I will replace them as soon as I can, but a rewrite will likely have to happen and I doubt it will be exact.


	5. Saturday, August 25, 2007

**Crossing the Ocean**

**Chapter 17: The List**

* * *

Author's Note: No, we're not done yet

Disclaimer: Does anyone really still need me to say it? Okay, here goes. I don't own JAG, its characters.

* * *

Saturday, August 25, 2007

San Diego California

"Umm umm, don't move! Mac hums sleepily and wiggles closer.

In response to this Harm picks his head up off the pillow and looks down at the top of her head awkwardly.

Playfully she smacks his bare chest with the palm of one hand. "You're moving!" She objects.

"What time is it?" Harm notices it's late enough for the sun to be fully up. It's probably after 0800.

"I don't know and I don't care. I don't even care that I don't know. Stop moving!"

Harm chuckles and winds the fingers of his left hand into her hair. Is your clock on the fritz again?"

"It's your fault. Every time it resets itself, you come along and cause a power surge."

"Hey, it's not like you were screaming 'No!" he smirks.

"Course not." She murmurs. "Harm, anybody ever tell you that you make a lousy pillow. Be still!"

"Okay. Five more minutes and then we have to get up."

"Why?"

"We're going to La Jolla today."

"Not until lunchtime. I know it's not that late. Laura would burn down the house if she missed breakfast."

"And that's just one more reason we have to get up Ninja Girl. Mini Mac is going to want to eat… Probably soon."

"God Harm! Don't call her that. She'll take it as encouragement. The last thing anybody needs to do is to encourage her to be more like me."

"Oh, I don't know about that." He says; rubbing her shoulder.

"Seriously Harm. It's a miracle I found her when I did, before Casey managed to destroy her sweet tender little soul. She's already got my blood in her veins. That means some of her genes are angry, some of them are drunk, and the rest of them are probably so confused it's ridiculous. All she really wants is to be loved. Maybe we got to her in time. Maybe she won't grow up needing six men at one time to feel complete. Maybe she won't grow up terrified of being alone.

Harm picks his head up again. "How do women manage to walk upright under the crushing weight of all their maternal worries?"

Mac shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe because they have to. Ask your mother."

"I'm asking you."

"All I know is that if she doesn't wind up someplace better than where she started, it'll be my fault."

"You worry way too much. She's already someplace better than where she started someplace monumentally better. All you have to do now is just do the next right thing."

"You say that like I know what the next right thing is."

"Well, we could start by getting up and making some breakfast.

Mac pulls the quilt tighter around them and tries to snuggle even closer. "Not yet."

"Mac, what's going on with you? You're usually the one telling me to get up."

"I'm being childish… But I don't care. The sooner we start this day, the sooner it's going to be over. I'm not ready yet!" she sulks.

"Oh man. I forgot to tell you!"

"Tell me what?" She asks; finally picking her head up off his shoulder to look at him.

"I'm not leaving… At least not today anyway."

She scowls. "Uh Harm, can you say AWOL? Can you say court martial?"

He grins at her.

"No…How about Leavenworth?"

"Simmer down Marine. Preferably now, you know, before you get yourself all worked up… I requested an extension on my leave."

"You did? When? Why didn't you tell me?" she asks in rapid fire succession

"I did. Thursday morning. I didn't tell you at first because I did know how to explain the reason without upsetting you. Then the whole disagreement thing happened, Laura got scared, and then it was doctor's appointments and shoe shopping. My request was approved. I got the e-mail yesterday morning while you were at the office. Then we had court."

"And after court Laura was just so happy… and full of energy." She fills in the blanks herself. "She wore herself out last night. I didn't think she'd ever go to sleep. Wait. What do you mean you didn't know how to tell me without upsetting me?"

Harm cups a hand around the back of her head and gently returns it to his shoulder. "I was worried about yesterday. I didn't want to leave you the day after… Especially not if things didn't go well… But I didn't want to say that either."

"And you say I worry too much! Even if she'd been placed with Mom, it's not like I'd never see her again. Who do you think was going to help Mom out financially?"

"I figured as much. But Wednesday was so hard for you. I figured Friday would be worse… If it had gone differently."

"How long do we have?" Mac changes the subject quietly.

"Until next Saturday evening. I figure we can spend the day with Mom and Frank, and maybe sometime tomorrow, we can sit down, and talk seriously about the whole address thing and how we're going to resolve it. I'm going to have to be the one to transfer. You can't leave the country with Laura… At least not right now."

"I know. I'm sorry Harm."

"For what? I hate London; remember? Besides, there's bound to be something in the area. Things would go a lot smoother if…"

Suddenly they hear the sound of a small walker bumping their door with the intent to cause it to open. The door does open and a sleepy-eyed little girl peeks around it with a serious case of bed head. "Morning people. Get up! Feed me!" Laura orders them happily. She's gone just as quickly as she came.

"Told you so." Harm laughs. "And she doesn't knock either."

"Well, what do you expect? My sister's not exactly modest… You know, in case you hadn't noticed. We'll put that on the list."

"Oh, I noticed. The list? What list?"

"You know, the list. This week was for Laura; therapy, doctors, teachers, court… Next week we'll make a plan to resolve the address thing, and teach Laura to knock before entering; especially this room, Flyboy!"


	6. Sunday, August 26, 2007

**Chapter 24: Tension in the House of Mackenzie**

* * *

Author's note: It's short, because I'm tired tonight. Steamboat, I just got your latest review. Point of clarification: your reviews are not weird. The way they are delivered to me is weird. But if your daughter says you're weird, you're in good company. My niece will be eight next week, and she tells me I'm weird quite nearly on a daily basis. What would we do without them?

Goodnight people.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

* * *

Sunday, August 26, 2007

San Diego California

0745 HRS

Still having no clue where she could possibly put another bite, Harm puts another serving of scrambled eggs on Laura's plate and then returns to his chair and his cup of coffee, noticing that she seems rather somber this morning.

"You feeling okay sweetheart?"

She nods as she takes another bite of eggs and reaches for her orange juice. When she can she says, "I'm just hungry."

"You fell asleep in the car last night on the way home. You didn't have any dinner."

She nods and then frowns. "I woke up in my bed."

"Well of course you did. You didn't think we were going to leave you in the car all night long?"

"I woke up in my jammies."

"Yeah. Aunt Mac changed your clothes for you."

"Mom woulda just dumped me on the couch in my clothes."

Harm nods. "Mac thought you would be more comfortable in your PJ's"

"I don't even remember."

"You slept through most of it. The only time you woke up, even a little bit, was when I nearly laid you down on top of your dog."

Laura nods. "She likes to lay on my bed when I'm not here. I don't know why."

"Because she misses you and your bed smells like you, and it's probably pretty comfortable too." he smiles.

"I like your mom and Mr. Frank. They're nice."

"They like you too."

"Even Mr. Frank?"

"Of course."

"You sure? I didn't mean to get mad at him. He dripped all over my chalk pictures. But… It was his house; and his chalk too."

"Ahh. I don't think you should worry about that. You didn't do anything wrong. For a minute though, I thought you were going to push him back into the water."

Laura looks of the table top. "I got mad." she admits quietly. I draw all those pretty pictures and he gets them all wet… But, when I get mad I say real quiet, just in my head so nobody else can hear, don't be like mom."

Harm tucks her hair behind her ear to keep it out of her plate. "That's good Laura. That's really mature."

"What's that word mean?" she slowly lifts her head, wearing a puzzled expression.

"Mature? It means grownup."

"You think so? About me; I mean?"

"Laura I know people in their twenties and thirties who wouldn't bother to control their tempers half as well as you do."

Laura shrugs. "Mom makes people sad when she acts mean. I don't wanna make people sad. She makes Mimi sad a lot."

"Maybe Mimi will get a break now."

"Maybe." The little girl chews on her lower lip. "Do you think your mom and Mr. Frank will let me go back to their house sometime? They were nice to me, even after I got mad."

"Of course. I told you; they like you."

Still not convinced, she gives him a worried look.

"Hey, if you don't believe me, ask them yourself. They're coming here for dinner tonight."

"They are?"

"They are."

"Is that why Aunt Mac's acting weird?"

"Is she acting weird?" Harm hadn't noticed her acting any differently than usual. She'd been sleepy this morning; with her usual mix of grumpiness and affection. He'd only been there six days and already he was use to it. Leave it to her to find a way to grumpy and cuddly all at the same time. Maybe it was a Marine thing, but he doubted it.

Laura simply stares at him as if she thinks he might have gone blind before she explains. "Harm, she's cleaning the house again."

"Again?"

"Duh. Harm, she cleaned the house yesterday. I know I'm a kid, but I'm not _that _messy! Besides, she barely ate any breakfast. All she had was coffee and a piece of toast! Now she's on her hands and knees, cleaning the bathroom floor with a washcloth instead of a mop! She's gonna starve to death if she cleans the whole house like that with no food in her tummy. Plus, she says later I have to clean my room; again! I just cleaned it yesterday! Harm, what's wrong with her?"

Harm chuckles. "I think I might have an idea about that." he says getting up from the table.

"Well, can you make her stop please?"

Harm kisses the top of Laura's head as he picks up his coffee cup. "Finish your eggs." he says leaving the room.

"Don't I always?" She calls after him sardonically.

* * *

**Chapter 25: An Ill-tempered Marine**

* * *

Author's note: Several of you have asked me the same question since last night, although it has been phrased in a number of ways. What's wrong with Mac? Is Mac nesting? Is she pregnant? The answer is, I don't know. She hasn't said so; at least not to me. I'd like to gently remind you all, that even though it's taken me forever to write this much of the story, story-wise only six days have passed since their reunion. I don't think, at that point, that even Mac would know if she were pregnant. Also, even if she is, I think it takes a little bit longer than six days for the whole nesting impulse to kick in. Look for another reason. I love you guys, but you're getting ahead of the story. Good things come to those who wait my darlings.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

* * *

Sunday, August 26, 2007

San Diego California

0752 HRS

Harm stands sideways in the bathroom doorway. Leaning against the frame, he sips coffee and watches her scrub grout with a toothbrush for a bit. It takes her several long seconds to realize she's being watched. When she does, she glances up and huffs. "Hi sailor." with cantankerous affection

"Hi yourself. What you doing down there?"

Mac sits back on her heels for a moment and looks up at him as if his hair has turned lime green. "I'm making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." She declares, her words dripping sarcasm as she brandishes the toothbrush in his general direction.

Harm nods. "Laura told me you are using a washcloth to clean the floor, not a toothbrush."

"I started with a washcloth. Now I'm using the toothbrush; and if you knew what I was doing, why did you ask?"

Instead of answering her, Harm squats on his heels and asks a question of his own. "What color's the grout in my mother's bathroom?"

She scowls at him. "I have no idea. I didn't notice it yesterday. So, it's probably as spotless as the rest of her house. It certainly wasn't dirty enough to stand out."

"My mother has a housekeeper who comes in three times a week Mac; also before and after special occasions. I'm quite certain Stella was there the day before yesterday, if not yesterday morning, just before we arrived."

"Well, I don't have a housekeeper."

"And you think my mother's going to pay extra close attention to the grout in your bathroom? You mopped in here yesterday."

"I mopped. I didn't scrub."

"And mopping made it clean enough for everyone but my mother?"

"I don't know. I have no idea what mothers-in-law look for when it comes to their soon to be daughters-in-law. The last time I had a mother-in-law I was 18, drunk, and didn't care… And one of the drawbacks of living on the beach is that you never get rid of the sand; no matter how hard you scrub." She adds the last bit managing to look both chagrined and dismayed."

"Mac." Harm says quietly. "First, you aren't that person anymore. Second, there's not a trace of sand in here."

"There will be. You wait, just as soon as Laura goes out to play. The first time she comes back in, she'll have sand everywhere."

"You live on the beach, Mac. I think it's to be expected." His rationale seems to irritate her but he tries again anyway. "We aren't serving dinner in the bathroom. The floor in here doesn't have to be clean enough to eat off of. Neither do any of the other floors for that matter."

She ignores him. "She's your mother. You help. Go get the vacuum cleaner. Use the hose around all the baseboards."

"If I do will you please go eat something?"

"I ate."

"A piece of toast and a cup of coffee is not enough for your Mac. You're worrying Laura. She thinks you're going to starve to death."

"God, is that why she's so quiet this morning?"

"She's hungry this morning, and penitent over her little flash of temper yesterday."

"What? When she got irritated with Frank? I swear Harm that kid is going to give herself an ulcer!"

"She told me that when she's mad, she tells herself not to act like her mother."

Mac stands up and pitches the used toothbrush into the bathroom's trash can. Suddenly she looks angry enough to spit nails. "I'm somewhat familiar with that tactic. It's not fair Harm. She shouldn't have to do that. She's just a little girl! Just once, I wish she'd get mad and throw a fit, like a regular kid, but she can't, because she's learned not to take the adults in her life for granted. Happy, healthy, well adjusted, normal, kids do that because it never enters their minds that the adults in their lives might hurt them or abandon them."

"Give her some time with us. She may learn how to throw a - normal kid - fit. You may even regret you said that."

"I won't! As long as she's not 15, stealing cars, drinking, and sneaking out of the house to crawl into bed with her best friend because it's the only place she feels safe."

With sadness in his eyes, he reaches for her, but she's too agitated to allow herself to be held. With gratitude in her eyes she says, "Thanks, but no! Not right now. Now I'm just mad!" She snatches a bottle of tub and tile cleaner off the vanity, steps around the half-wall that separates the rest of the bathroom from the walk-in shower and attacks the tile in there with a vengeance.

Harm leaves her to it, not knowing which is worse, her being nervous about his mother's arrival, or her being pissed off at her father for her own ill treatment and her sister for Laura's. He goes in search of the vacuum cleaner thinking that it is probably best to go along with her and to allow her to work out her frustrations against the bathroom tile, lest she look for other outlets.

* * *

**Chapter 26: Temporary Deafness**

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Author's Note: Many thanks to all my readers who are recommending both this story and the previous one to friends. I've gotten some very nice messages from people who tell me of your recommendations. Sometimes word-of-mouth is very flattering. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

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Sunday, August 26, 2007

San Diego California

1748 HRS

"Thanks for helping out today Harm. I know you think I'm being silly." Mac tells him as she puts the bread in the oven to bake.

Glancing over her shoulder, Harm checks the lasagna already in the oven and reduces the temperature another 50° before wrapping his arms around her from behind. "You aren't being silly. You're just nervous; unnecessarily. Mom loves you."

"She hardly knows me. That's what worries me. I think she's happy we finally changed things between us, but what if she gets to know me and decides she hates me?"

"Not gonna happen." Harm answers quietly, nuzzling the right side of her neck. "When she gets to know you, she'll understand why I love you. Besides, she knows more about you than you think she does."

"Oh god! What have you told her about me?"

"Bits and pieces of the truth, and more good than bad. Stop worrying. She knew this thing between you and me was serious long before either of us was willing to admit it. I told her I took you flying. What was it? Less than six months after we met?"

"Don't you sweet talk me Harmon Rabb. I'm not the only woman you've ever taken flying."

"No. But none of the others ever heard me say 'She's your bird.' I don't hand my stick over to just anybody." She turns in his arms just in time to catch that familiar sexy smile accompanied by a raised eyebrow. When I told Mom I let you fly - well, let's just say she got real curious real fast."

Mac pretends to ignore the flirtatious innuendo in the statement. "Did you tell her I got shot in the leg that same weekend?"

"She knows you've been shot. I didn't tell her it was that same weekend. If I had, I would've had tell her about the poachers. That would have upset her."

"Ya think? It still upsets me, and I'm the one with the scar on my leg. No, telling your mother that we were being chased by hell bent, gun toting, poachers, and that I was pretty much useless in the way of covering your six… that wouldn't make her feel good."

"You weren't useless. When I told her you'd been shot, I told her you damn near outran me with a bullet hole in your leg. I told her I'd never met anybody so strong or determined. This was long before she ever met you face to face. Every time I've called her over the last few years and told her I was dating someone, she's sighed and said… "Okay" with barely concealed exasperation. I showed up at her house with you yesterday and the first time you left the room, she didn't look at me and roll her eyes; or even raise an eyebrow. In fact, the first time you left the room, she hugged me. So, I reiterate, you really need to relax."

'Most of your girlfriends elicited eye rolls from your mother?"

"Some of them even before you and I met, but especially those since then. She showed up at the loft, and the first time Renee left the room. She smacked me on the back of the head."

Mac tries to stifle the laughter that bubbles up inside her but fails miserably. "I can just see that. I wanted to smack you myself." She admits with a whisper."

"Oh?"

Mac nods. "Public relations was her thing, and I'll admit she did it well. Renee was all about presentation Harm. She knew all about making people look good in front of a camera. She knew all about making herself look good, but underneath all that pretty make-up was a very insecure woman. She thought she wanted you. She thought you'd bring some pretty picture in her head to fruition. She wanted to stand beside the poster boy she tried to turn you into; wanted to stand in your light for her own personal benefit. Trouble is, the guy who is worthy of the poster usually isn't the one willing to sit around posing for the shot. He's usually not interested in standing around looking pretty; but doing nothing. You did it for her once, and that gave her the wrong impression. She was aware that your service record looked good. She failed to see that the reason it looks good is because you've invested yourself in it. The reality of that investment kept getting in the way of her picture perfect world. When she finally accepted that you weren't going to leave it behind for her, she bailed. Well, that, and a loved one dying can make girl do crazy things." Mac adds with a touch of quiet compassion. "I'd bet good money that she and the mortician didn't mean to tumble into bed together the first time, but once they did; she had a mess to clean up – either that, or the reason she needed to leave."

Harm watches her face while she talks. "You really didn't like her at all, did you?"

"What I hated most, was the fact that I understood her. She wasn't all bad. She was messy, and human, and flawed, just like the rest of us. Mostly, I just wanted to drop kick her pretty little butt out of your bed... I liked her a tiny bit better than you liked Mic."

"I don't believe I'm hearing this. Are you actually admitting that you were jealous?"

"Well I don't think it was worth breaking Bud's jaw." She pauses to raise an eyebrow. "But, meh, maybe just a little tiny bit." She says holding her thumb and forefinger half an inch apart, and smiling up at him.

Harm has the good grace to look ashamed of himself. "Poor Bud. He really is too forgiving. I wouldn't have talked to me after that if I were him."

Mac continues to smile. "We've got to call them tonight and tell them we're getting married. We just might better tell him first. We may need him to peel Harriett off the ceiling after we tell her."

Chuckling, Harm nods in agreement the instant before his lips meet hers.

Several seconds later, Laura pokes her head out through her bedroom doorway. "Hey, is anybody gonna get the door?" When Laura sees why neither adult is responding to the knock at the door she rolls her eyes. "Big people are so weird!" she mutters to herself as she goes to the front door. She pushes the curtain that covers the narrow window to the right of the door aside and smiles happily at Trish and Frank waiting on the other side. She opens the front door slowly and carefully, moving her walker backwards one step at a time. When Frank and Trish are able to step through the door she says in a hushed tone, "Hi, come on in." She gestures toward Harm and Mac in the small kitchen and adds with a quiet giggle, "I think their ears stop working when their lips touch."

* * *

**Chapter 27: Who's Nervous?**

* * *

Author's Note; McRose, I like to close the loop and the doors on ancient history whenever possible. Although I know they're part of life, I really don't like loose ends, and DPB and TPTB left us with far too many of them. So, I'm just going to rewrite it the way I want! So there, take that Donnie!

Steamboat, no I don't mind one review for three chapters. I just like to hear from you every once in awhile. As for my muse, I think Laura is feeding her cookies, or maybe dead animal!

Carramor, I like you and your wonderful reviews, but Mac and Harm better not give you Laura. Ultimately, she is mine. I don't mind sharing, but no I'm sorry, you can't have. I love her too much.

Jeanmary, Happy Thanksgiving to you too. Gobble gobble!

CRB, no frantic and compulsive cleaning is not a "mom" thing. That is a "daughter/daughter-in-law" thing. I know because I experience it on a regular basis. Mom's coming over. Must clean EVERYTHING! So, I wash the dishes and leave them on the drying rack while I go clean something else. By the time I return to the kitchen, my mother has arrived, and she is standing in my kitchen, washing the clean dishes in the drying rack because I left them to dry and now they have spots. My mother says the word spots as if it leaves an unpleasant taste in her mouth; like saying the words communicable disease might make you cringe. I'm not a slob, but you could literally eat off my mother's floors. I can't say that about mine and it drives her crazy. Although my husband's estrangement from his mother makes me sad, I'm rather grateful not to have a mother-in-law who visits frequently and criticizes my housekeeping skills the same way my mother does. If I did, between the two of them, I'd never rest! 'Big smile'

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

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Sunday, August 26, 2007

San Diego California

Frank Burnett holds his breath, struggling valiantly not to burst out laughing as he scoops Laura up and hugs her close. Smiling, his wife walks into the center of the cozy living room and loudly clears her throat.

Grudgingly aware that they have been intruded upon, Harm ends the kiss. Without breaking their embrace both, he and Mac slowly turn their divided attention to Trish, but just before they do, for a flicker in time Mac senses a nearly imperceptible trace of annoyance in Harm's blue eyes. While Harm chuckles quietly at the mild discomfort he can see in Mac's dark eyes. Her discomfort is not strong enough to call embarrassment, but it is there. Of the two of them, when it comes to expressions of physical intimacy, Mac is by far the more uninhibited one. But his mother makes her nervous. Harm thinks it's oddly sweet.

"Frank? Mom?" Mac and Harm say simultaneously and somewhat dazed, and then they follow it up with, "What's so funny?" when the older adults give up the struggle not to and laugh aloud.

"You two are." Trish answers in an affable tone that loosens some of the knots in Mac's stomach. "Apparently when the two of you kiss you experience temporary deafness. We knocked on the front door for at least a good 30 seconds before we heard Laura coming to let us in. She has informed us both that when your lips touch your ears stop working."

Completely at ease, Harm shrugs it off. As he crosses the room he says, "Thank you for letting them in Laura." To the adults he says, "Being temporarily deaf with her doesn't bother me in the least. We've come through much worse. Together we've been unable to see, unable to speak, unable to hear, unable to fly, unable to land, drive, move, sleep, tell time, or even get cell phone reception. No matter what we face, it seems that as long as we stick together we usually come through it okay." He takes a large bakery box, and what looks like a large, heavy shopping bag from his mother's hands.

Mac relaxes completely as she listens to him talk. "Harm, I'm not sure romantically induced deafness really compares to some of the adventures we've had professionally."

"On the other hand," she smiles at his parents. "He's right. We've done all that and more. If anybody else had been there but him at those times, I'm quite certain I wouldn't be standing here today. Your son is a walking wonder Trish. Imagine, if you can, being temporarily blind and led around by a man who can't speak; can't call out to you. That was… Interesting." Mac finishes, mindful that Laura is hanging on every word.

"You seemed to understand me just fine." Harm interjects with the faraway look of recollection in his eyes as he settles his mother's offerings on the kitchen counter.

"A lot of it was guesswork and intuition, Harm… That and knowing you; knowing your playbook. It was certainly guesswork I wouldn't want to try with anyone else. I remember at one point in particular, you backed me up against a wall, pushed me down into a crouch while making sure I didn't bump my head on anything, then you patted my shoulder and I heard you walk quickly away. I interpreted all that to mean, 'Get down, be quiet, and stay put jarhead.' When you walked away I could only pray I was right."

Harm flashes one of his smiles between Mac and his mother. "See, I couldn't even talk and she heard me just fine; loud and clear."

"Hey" Laura, demands a break in the conversation. Why couldn't you see?"

Harm winks at the girl, letting her know that it was nothing to worry about. "Ammonia doesn't belong in human eyes kiddo. Aunt Mac accidentally got some in her face, but everything worked out okay."

"What's An-monia?" Laura stumbles over the word.

"Ammonia is a chemical solvent. It's used for cleaning and for other things too. Harm wouldn't let the doctors even touch him; much less examine him, until they treated my eyes. Turns out he's stubborn as a mule; even without a voice."

"Why couldn't he talk?"

"A badly bruised larynx will render anyone quiet for a few days." Mac smiles. "Even him."

Laura frowns stubbornly. "Speak English! What's a larynx?"

Harm moves to stand beside Frank and ruffles the girl's hair. That's the part of your throat were your voice comes from. Mine got hurt, but it's all better now. "

"What's in the box Trish?" Mac changes the subject, hoping to distract Laura.

"Butterscotch brownies." Trish answers with a knowing smile.

Harm chortles merrily as both Laura and Mac's eyes light up. "The way to either of their hearts is through their stomachs Mom. They both like to be fed. For some reason, it makes them feel loved."

Laura nods vigorously as Mac supplies, "Anything but Harm's meatless meatloaf! However, chocolate baked goods are always a guaranteed win."

Laura passes an extremely befuddled look to all the adults in room. "Aunt Mac, how in the world does he make meatloaf with no meat?"

"Trust me baby! You don't wanna know! It's nasty!" Mac shutters in revulsion."

Still grinning, Harm rolls his eyes. Looking at Frank he says, this woman will follow me anywhere. She'd follow me all the way to Russia and back. Hell, she did follow me all the way to Russia and back… But offer her meatless meatloaf and she acts like I'm trying to poison her."

"Harm!" Mac interrupts. "As far as I'm concerned, that is poison, and I've followed you to places a whole lot scarier than Russia.".

"I remember one very cold night in the desert. You followed me right into the middle of a free-fire zone."

They all watch Mac think about it for a second, and then each of them, especially Harm, is surprised when, she nearly doubles over laughing. "There we were." She chokes out. "Lying on the desert floor, freezing our butts off, staring up at the stars, and Trish… your son was telling me how wonderful it was to be so far from civilization and the usual ambient noises of a city… And then, all of a sudden…Ka-boom!"

"Hey!" Harm teases, "You didn't whine about being cold after that."

"First squid, Marines don't whine! Second, I didn't mention being cold after that because I wasn't. I was too busy running to be cold!"

"Told ya I keep you warm; didn't I?"

"That's not what I was hoping for Harm!" Mac hisses playfully; elbowing him gently in the ribs on her way into the kitchen. "I'm putting on a pot of coffee." She announces.

Harm offers her a raised eyebrow in response to her first statement. "Really? Because two minutes before that you are trying to create some kind of barrier between the two of us with your pack. Something about wanting to give me my own space…in the middle of an enormous desert."

Mac shakes her head and waves both Trish and Frank onto bar stools on the opposite side of the kitchen counter before speaking. "I love him. I really do… But sometimes he's absolutely clueless!"

Trish purses her lips, eyes her son curiously, and then, returning her gaze to Mac, she nods silently.

"What?" Harm passes an uneasy look between the two women in his life; smart enough to realize that some silent conversation about him has just taken place between them.

"Nothing." Mac says sweetly; making him all the more nervous.

Trish laughs as the flesh visible above the collar of her son's shirt begins to turn ever so slightly pink. "Relax Harm." She reels him in slowly. "That's just Mac's polite way of telling me that she wasn't trying to keep you away from her… She was trying to keep herself away from you."

Harm looks back and forth between the two of them until his neck goes from pink to red. He points at Mac. "I liked you better when she made you nervous." He declares with an uneasy grin.

* * *

**Chapter 28: Keepsakes & other Treasures**

* * *

Author's Note: I have no Internet connection; again! I'm ready tto look for a new ISP On another note - Yay me! I figured out how to use my cell phone as a wifi hot spot. :-)

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

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Sunday, August 26, 2007

San Diego California

In absolute wonder, Trish Burnett stands in the middle of the small multi-purpose room and turns a slow circle; starting her assessment with a breathtaking view of the ocean and ending with the same. "This room is why you chose this place."

Stepping out of the closet, and leaning a guitar case against the wall to the right of the door Mac nods without comment. She listens to Trish ramble on idly as she returns to the interior space of the closet.

"Cozy library, small office space, gorgeous view… And you added the bed yourself. Though, I'd have turned the desk to face the window."

"If the desk faces the window, I get absolutely no work done Trish." Mac calls out from inside the closet.

"Ah." Harm's mother understands. "Too busy ocean watching."

"And it never gets old. I can't explain it. The waves roll in, the waves roll out. It's the same repetitive pattern endlessly. Yet, it's new every time. There's nothing monotonous about it."

Trish turns another circle; this time looking for evidence of Mac's personality; personal touches. The ceiling fan is newer than the door fixtures; added recently. Accents like curtains, throw pillows, and blankets are in soft, yet warm, earthy colors. The room may be small but it is well appointed and tidy. Nearly everything in a proper place; the only hint of disorder, a couple of file folders poking haphazardly from the top of Mac's briefcase on one corner desk, and another misaligned stack of folders on the opposite corner of the desk. On an end table beside the small daybed, Trish finds a book on Indian folklore, the most recent edition of the Navy Times and a magazine about paleontology, along with a well used coaster. She notices that in this room, like most other rooms of the house, there are no clocks. In fact, the only clock she has seen in the entire house is the one that came with the microwave. "You live in this room don't you Mac?" she queries.

Bent at the waist, Mac grunts affirmatively as she slowly slides a heavy cedar chest out of the rooms only closet.

Mildly surprised by the somewhat guttural sound, Trish turns to face the closet and then quickly steps forward apologetically "Goodness Mac. Why didn't you say something?" Mac shrugs as she continues to push the large chest through the closet doorway.

Trish takes hold of the two corners nearest her and tries to help by pulling from her end. She is immediately startled by the weight. "Mac stop! This thing is too heavy!"

Having made a little progress Mac comments, "It'll be easier to get into out here; rather than in there." Mac says hiking her thumb in the direction of the closet. "And the hard part's over now. The worst part is turning it around to get it through the closet door. It's got furniture sliders on the bottom of it. Now, all I need is a straight shot and a running start. If you step back…"

Objecting, Trish does step back. "Mac, that thing's got weigh more than 100 pounds." Trish glances over her shoulder at the open bedroom doorway. "Harm! Frank!" she calls out.

"Eighty-seven. With absolutely nothing in it."

"Umm hmm. Trish muses "And how many pounds of stuff do you have in it."

"At least another eighty-seven." Mac huffs with a smile as she sets her shoulders and pushes off against the floor with her legs; doing just what she said, getting a running start. By the time Frank and Harm poke their heads in through the doorway the enormous cedar chest is in the center of the room where Trish had previously stood.

"I was going to tell you guys to help." Trish laughs. "But I don't think she needs you."

Sinking to her knees and beginning to work the brass latches that secure the lid in place, Mac smiles up at Harm. "Oh, I wouldn't say that Trish."

Puzzled by the reply, Trish considers what she said for a moment. When Mac's comment falls into place she smiles, "That's not what I meant."

Before opening the lid, Mac tenderly fingers the intricate design carved there. "It's dusty. Harm, can you get me a dish towel from the kitchen. I don't want to scatter the dust over everything that in here. "By the time she finishes the statement, he's already gone and on his way back again.

Handing over the towel, he kneels beside her and gazes down at the inlaid carving. Inside the outline of the five point star, a sharp featured male sits cross legged, Indian style, with an enormous hawk's talon's resting on his shoulder. Bird and man gaze at each other intently as if they're in the midst of some private conversation. "Impressive carving." Harm remarks, inciting the others in the room to take a closer look.

A slight smile graces the corners of Mac's mouth as Laura joins them and Trish comments," The detail is breathtaking. I can see distinction between layers of the bird's feathers, and actual definition in the man's face."

"It was a birthday gift from Uncle Matt." Mac says; wiping away dust. "He built this chest in Leavenworth's woodworking shop. It must've taken him months to do it."

The emotion in her voice leads Harm to gently place his hand on her shoulder. "Is there significance in the carving?"

"It's a likeness of my great great grandfather. His Cherokee name, loosely translated, was - Sits among the Hawks." Some tribes believe that the hawk was the protector of Mother Earth; others believe that the bird was an omen of evil things to come. There's even some disagreement over the representation among the different bands of Cherokee tribes."

"I remember you mentioning your Cherokee heritage. I also remember you mentioning that your grandmother was Persian, and taught you to speak Farsi."

"My maternal grandmother was ¼ Cherokee. She married an Irishman."

"Hence the name O'Hara."

Mac nods. "Joe's mom was Persian. She married Virgil Mackenzie. She was barely five feet tall, but she had an uncanny knack for staring people down. She liked to wear my grandfather's old leisure suits; even though she had to cut them off at the knees and hem them to make them fit. She refused to wear the hijab or anything else the typical Iranian woman wears. She read me the Koran, and much to my father's horror, she tried to teach me to belly dance."

Trish laughs aloud at this piece of information, or perhaps it is the astonished look on her son's face that makes her laugh as Harm's mouth falls open.

"Really?" he gives Mac a speculative look." How come I'm just now finding out about this?"

"Because of the look that's on your face right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harm asks, trying to feign innocence.

Mac shrugs. "I knew you'd look at me like that if I told you." She says simply. "Do try and dredge your mind up out of the gutter Flyboy!"

Mac offers him a quick kiss before she stands and lifts the lid on the chest. She sets the lid as far back as it will go on its hinges and then sets the hinge lock to be certain that the heavy lid doesn't slam shut against Laura small fingers as the girl kneels at her other side, peering inside the chest with the expression of someone who's about to discover treasure on her young face. "Aunt Mac, What'cha got in here?" she asks; sounding awestruck.

Mac rubs the girl's back. "Keepsakes. Special things. Let's see. My grandpa's dog tags are in that little box. There's a quilt my grandmother made. It's got the Cherokee Nation emblem on it. It belongs to Uncle Matt now." Laura picks up a brightly colored silk scarf woven with fabric of deep blues, greens, and gold and gently presses it to her cheek. "That belonged to Grandpa Virgil's mother. She gave it to my grandmother, and my grandmother gave it to my Aunt Clara when she married Uncle Matt."

Laura carefully sets it aside, and picks up a small box; the kind one expects to find a shirt in. She lifts the lid, and pushes aside tissue paper, lifting out a short white negligee with delicate spaghetti straps at the shoulders. "Who's is this?"

Gently, Mac takes the garment away from her and tucks it back in its box. Replacing the lid, Mac answers. That's mine."

Laura looks confused. "Why did you put your PJ's in here?" She asks innocently; bringing smiles to the faces of the adults in the room.

Mac smiles at her. "That's private. Ask me when you're 21. Maybe I'll tell you then."

Laura thinks this over before accepting it with a slight nod, and then she says, "Aunt Mac, the wedding dress is in the closet; in the back. I saw it once."

Harm looks toward the closet. As he starts to rise to his feet, Mac takes hold of his hand and shakes her head. "No, the dress I'm looking for is in here." She tells them as she begins to move photo albums and other keepsakes out of the way.

Laura watches her. "You have more than one?"

Mac nods. "The one I'm looking for isn't mine. It belonged to Aunt Clara. It's sealed in a box."

"How come the other one's not in here too?"

I told you." Mac answers sweetly. "This chest is for special things." She hugs the girl's shoulders.

Laura frowns. "Wedding dresses aren't special?"

"Most of them are…but not the one in the closet. It doesn't belong in this chest. I never wore it."

Laura's frown deepens. "Then why do you have it?"

"Couple of reasons. First, the shop wouldn't take it back. I almost got married once. We canceled the wedding at the last minute. I'd already had my final fitting, and the dress was paid for. So, it was mine, I was stuck with it."

"What's the other reason?"

"Self-flagellation." Mac answers honestly, drawing a curious look from both and Frank and Trish as well as a painfully sad frown from Harm.

"Huh?" Laura asks with a scowl.

"Self-inflicted emotional torture." Mac simplifies; only managing to deepen Laura's scowl.

"Sorry baby." I'm making you nervous; aren't I? It's okay; that's just a turn of phrase. I only mean that I kept it to remind myself never to do that again… at least for awhile anyway. When I didn't need it anymore, it made its way to the back of the closet. Harriet suggested I sell it on EBay. At the time, I just didn't like the sound of that. It seemed… I don't know… desperate. Now, I'm not so sure. In fact… now I think that sounds like a really good idea. I might just post it on EBay and use the money to pay for your new leg brace. That dress might pay for all the leg braces you'll ever need. It was ridiculously expensive." Mac tells her with a smile; stretching her eyes wide in an attempt to ease the scowl off Laura's face.

"I don't think it worked Aunt Mac." Laura tells her. The scowl is just beginning to fade.

"You don't think what worked?"

"You said you kept it to remind you not to get married again. So, I don't think it worked."

Mac chuckles at the misunderstanding. "I kept it to remind me not to get engaged for the wrong reasons again." She clarifies. "The reminder wasn't meant to keep me from marrying for the right reason." She glances at the people in the room; her eyes touching Harm's face last. "It's okay to get rid of it now. I won't be needing it anymore." She says more to him than Laura.

The couple shares a tender smile as Laura chatters, "Liam's mom made curtains with her wedding dress."

Her eyes still locked with Harm's, Mac answers absent mindedly. "Yeah I know. I have seen those curtains. Now they're divorced, and Beth looks at those curtains hanging in her living room every day. With her quirky sense of humor, she enjoys that. I would not."

"So, no curtains?" Laura giggles.

Mac shakes her head emphatically, laughing. "Laura I'd sooner set the thing on fire and then scatter the ashes at sea; a Viking funeral for a wedding dress!" Mac grins as she lifts a large box from the bottom of the chest.

Trish steps forward, offering help with the box. She is surprised at the light weight of the box. It's long and deep, but it's not heavy; just cumbersome. Both women moving toward the bed, she comments. "Well it's not 30 pounds of silk or satin."

Mac shakes her head as Harm interjects. "Thirty pounds!"

Trish smiles at his lack of knowledge on the subject. "Traditional wedding gowns are heavy son; yards and yards of fabric. As Mac works the lid off the box Trish asks, "How concerned with tradition are you? Should he leave the room?

"Mac glances at Harm momentarily as laughter bubbles out of her. "Only if he wants to." She offers him a raised eyebrow in inquiry as she adds, "I couldn't care less about that particular superstition Trish. After everything we've put each other through the fact that we're still getting married speaks for itself. It's gonna take more than an old wives' tale about bad luck to spook me now."

Harm does think it over for a moment; giving tradition due consideration. In the end, he agrees with Mac, Besides, his curiosity wins. He stays put and watches her, along with everyone else in the room, as Mac tenderly lifts the dress from its box.

* * *

**Chapter 29: The Dress**

* * *

Author's Note: Happy Thanksgiving one and all. I shall continue with the story in very short order, but before I do I simply must say Happy 8th birthday to Miss Lily. I am thankful for you, my little redheaded one, each and every day. "Aunt Leigh" is by far my favorite title. You make me shine baby girl.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

* * *

Sunday, August 26, 2007

San Diego California

Released from the sealed box it has been in for years, the simple white linen dress hangs from Mac's raised fingertips on delicate spaghetti straps. Mac gives it a gentle shake, unfurling its length. Holding it up in front of herself, she walks first to a full length mirror then, unhappy with the lighting, she moves to stand in front of the big picture window several feet away, still in line with the mirror and able to see her reflection. The long form fitting skirt was made for a tall slender woman and will hug all the right curves gracefully. The delicate lace from bodice to hemline adds a touch of elegance to the uncomplicated sheath. A neckline considered to be in good taste is counterbalanced by a plunging back.

Trish steps forward, eyeing the dress with appreciation and something else foreign and wonderful, that Mac can't quite identify until the woman speaks. "It looks almost as if it were made to fit you dear. Oh Mac, it's simply stunning." she says with unmistakable maternal affection.

"You really think so?" Mac questions; touched by her emotion. "I'm a little worried about the top. I hope that it fits okay. Aunt Clara and I were close to the same size and but I think the bodice may be a bit too tight."

"Can I?" Trish reaches out to gently tug at the fabric, but waits for Mac to nod first. Gently stretching fabric over the contours of Mac's chest before she checks the inner seam, she answers. "You're right. It may be a tiny bit snug now, but there's plenty of room to let it out if need be."

Mac gives her a worried frown. Quietly and uncomfortably she admits, "I can't do that myself. I can break down two dozen different assault rifles in under 20 seconds, but I'm a Marine. I'm not a seamstress. I don't want to mess up Aunt Clara's, dress and I can't trust it to a stranger."

Trish smiles patiently, "This is not a problem. I can do it. If you'll let me."

"Let you? You mean you wouldn't mind?"

Mind? Are you serious? Do you have any idea how long I have waited for this dear girl? Mac, I would be honored... As long as my doing it won't offend your mother. "

Moved, nearly to the point of tears, Mac suddenly laughs derisively. "Trish my mother couldn't care less." she whispers.

"Well know, I don't know your mother, but I find that very hard to believe." she says with a gentle smile.

Content to remain quiet until now, Harm occupies one corner of the room along with Frank and Laura; watching the two women forming their fledgling bond. "Mac, you are going to tell her? Aren't you? You are going to invite her?"

Mac chews on her lower lip for a long moment. Nodding, with a quiet sigh, she answers. "I will if you want me to, but you'd best prepare yourself for her absence." Harm can already hear the tell-tale hint of the disappointment and hurt in her voice that he knows she will never admit to.

"Hey, give her the chance to surprise you." he coaxes tenderly.

"Harm" she says with exaggerated patience. "How many of our friends are in uniform?"

"Most of them." he answers honestly.

"How many of them are male?"

This answer requires a brief moment of silent thought on his part. "Probably slightly less than half of them."

"My mother thinks anyone in a uniform is on a personal mission to get her, and she's terrified of all men whether they are worthy of such fear or not. She's afraid of you for God's sake." Mac adds incredulously. "You don't seriously think she's going to attend a wedding ceremony where slightly less than half the guests are men in uniform?"

Usually one to err on the side of optimism, he repeats. "She might…for her daughter. Give her the chance."

"Okay… if you want me to." Mac repeats doubtfully before returning her attention to the dress. She caresses the fabric tenderly, pressing in gently against her form.

Trish watches her and has to repress the urge to hug her in an attempt to sooth her. Somehow, even though it's what she wants to do, she doesn't think it's what Mac wants at this moment. Looking for something to ease the tension in the room, Trish walks a slow circle around Mac; eyeing the dress speculatively yet again. She's not quite certain if she's really seeing what she thinks she's seeing. Almost imperceptibly, in the sunlight streaming through the big picture window, the lace covering the bottom portion of the skirt seems to shimmer. It starts just above Mac's knees. The effect appears to gradually become stronger as it nears the hemline. "Mac? Is it just me…or does this dress shimmer in the sunlight… dark green and gold?"

With a genuine smile, Mac glances down at the skirt, and then spins, carrying the dress along with her. Dancing through sun beams; her movements do, in fact, cause the dress to shimmer subtly.

"Marine green and gold." she tells Trish with precision. "It was a Aunt Clara's way of showing her support for Uncle Matt's career. She made it subtle on purpose. She said she wanted people to notice, not notice and cringe. She said she wanted to be ostentatious without being gaudy."

"What a lovely, and accurate, turn of phrase."

Mac looks thoughtful for a moment. "It's already got the white and gold. Now, I just need to find an unintrusive way to add a little Navy blue.

Trish smiles mysteriously. "Mac, I think I may have just the thing." she says quietly as Mac flashes Harm a flirtatious smile. "What'cha think sailor? Will it do?"

Harm doesn't say anything at first; in fact, he waits so long that Laura gives him a look of exasperation. "Harm, you're supposed to tell her she looks pretty!" the little girl hisses; trying to help him out.

"Laura, shush." Mac says gently." Let the man speak for himself." but Mac doesn't really need to hear the words emanating from his blue eyes. She gives him a tender smile and then, careful of the dress's hem she marches toward the closet. "I'm going to go try it on." She announces.

* * *

**Chapter 30: I Need Your Help**

* * *

Author's Note: Adventures with the phone company continue. No more using my cell phone as a wireless hot spot. My DSL is connected, but I have no idea if it will stay that way. It seems, when they connected my DSL today, they disconnected my home phone. Oh for the love of God!

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

* * *

Sunday, August 26, 2007

San Diego California

"Well now. It's not quite as snug as I thought it would be; most likely because it's backless." Trish says, working the two clasps at Mac's waist before standing on tiptoe to glance over the Marine's shoulder at her reflection in the mirror.

"No it's not." Mac agrees with a contemplative frown. "But is it possible to lengthen the shoulder straps just a little… without damaging the lace… ¼ inch maybe. I know it's supposed to be form fitting, but I don't want it to be so snug that it looks cheap. I feel just the slightest bit restricted too."

"You look like Cinderella." Laura smiles happily at her side as Trish begins to fuss with the shoulder straps on the dress.

Mac affectionately pushes the little girl's hair out of her eyes. "We need to get you a haircut and a dress too."

"There's nearly another two inches on these straps Mac. Your aunt did this quite well."

Mac comments, "I don't think we need that much. Do you?" as Laura becomes excited. "I get a dress too?"

Trish smiles at the girl and then answers. "Mac, I think ½ inch would be better than ¼ inch, but no, you're right, we don't need two inches." While Mac answers Laura, "Well of course you get a dress too. You are gonna stand there beside me at the wedding; aren't you?"

Laura's wide eyed enthusiasm is contagious as she nods passionately. "What color dress do I get? She wants to know.

"What color dress do you want?" Mac chuckles.

"I would suggest a color that will complement your dress. Especially with the shimmering effect you've got going on here. You two don't want to clash." Trish offers. "Maybe a pale green or yellow. You could go with gold if you want, but in my opinion, gold is really an inappropriate color for someone Laura's age. I'd also go with an uncomplicated fabric given the simplicity of this dress."

Mac wrinkles her nose, "Every time I think of gold dresses I think of something a Vegas showgirl would wear. I agree, that's not appropriate."

"Can I have a dress that's yellow and green?" Laura questions hopefully.

"Maybe. We'll have to see what we can find. If we can find a dress that's both the yellow and green, and it fits you…"

With one hand on her walker, Laura bounces happily on the balls of her feet.

"Don't do that baby. You'll fall."

"It's okay. I got my new shoes on! I won't fall. Hey, where did Harm and Mr. Frank go?"

Mac and Trish exchange a silent smile in the mirror before Mac answers Laura.

"Things were getting just a little too girly in here for them. Besides, Harm may have wanted to see the dress, but he is more of a traditionalist than I am. He might not care for the old wives' tales or the superstitions that bring the traditions about but things like customs, traditions, rites of passage - whereas most of them just get on my nerves; I'm not one for doing things the way we've always done them just because it's the way we've always done them - they're really important to him. Seeing the dress is one thing but I know he's waiting for the wedding to see me in the dress. So, I'm pretty sure Harm went looking for a legitimate reason to leave the room honey. I bet he took Frank with him. They probably found something to tinker with.

"God help you if they did." Trish laughs. "Harm's good at that stuff. He's a self-taught Mr. Fixit. Frank doesn't know a socket wrench from a light bulb. He tried to rewire a light switch one day. He damn near burned my kitchen to the ground, and when he was done the light still didn't come on; the dishwasher did!" Trish laughs again. "The man had the nerve to smile at me and say, 'I meant for that to happen.' See, he likes to think he's Mr. Fixit. Cars; he's good with those; but household repair…" Trish shakes her head. "That's why, if something in the house is broken, I don't tell him! I wait for him to go to work and call the repairman, whom I have on speed dial. And don't either of you dare tell him I said that!"

Laura giggles and Mac chuckles." I think you're secret and safe with us Trish. I'm not too worried though; not as long as Harm is with him. Harm won't let him set anything on fire."

* * *

Just as Mac explained to Laura, Harm does find something to occupy his attention. First, he walks through the house collecting unattended glasses and cups the five of them have left sitting about. He deposits them in the kitchen sink and then he detours through the garage in search of Mac's toolkit before walking around the outside of house to the front door. Moments later, as he kneels adjusting the knob because it is out of alignment and sticks badly. He glances over his shoulder to be certain they are still alone before telling his silent companion "Frank, I need your help with something."

"Doorknob giving you trouble?"

Having heard, on more than one occasion, his mother lament about Frank's lack of handyman skills, Harm shakes his head. "No. I've got this. I need your help with something else." He lowers his voice. "And you can't tell Mac..."

* * *

**Chapter 31: The Importance of Family**

* * *

Author's Note: Enough for now. It's a gorgeous day here; in the high seventies. I'm going outside while there's still a little bit of daylight left to enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

* * *

Sunday, August 26, 2007

San Diego California

After dinner, the five of them sit in Mac's cozy living room watching a rainstorm rage beyond the windows. Thunder booms, lightening flashes, rain pounds the roof relentlessly, wind howls, and overhead; the lights flicker sporadically. Candles are lit and perched in various places throughout the room. Flashlights are at the ready at one end of Mac's coffee table. Half-drained coffee cups, and one glass of milk, along with saucers that still contain brownie crumbs are also about the room.

"We should just go home before it gets any worse Frank." Trish tells him.

"No!" Harm objects. On the sofa beside him, Mac shakes her head and finishes for him. "You two aren't going anywhere in this mess. We have room enough. It's late. You'll stay tonight."

"We didn't mean to stay for both lunch and dinner. I really did think it would let up by now. We're only 20 minutes away." She reasons. "How much worse do you really think it will get in just 20 minutes? Frank's a good driver."

"It's not Frank's driving I'm worried about Mom."

"It's all the nut cases out there." Mac chimes in again. "For reasons passing my understanding, weather like this brings out the crazies. It also makes typically smart people do stupid things."

Lying on the floor, and drawing on a long sheet of butcher block paper with the new art pencils that Frank and Trish brought along with them for her Laura offers, "You can have my bed. It's big enough by two people. I'll sleep on the couch." She grins with enthusiasm.

"Ah yes. This isn't any of my business. Trish tells them, but since she brought it up; I'm dying to ask. Why is the littlest person in this house sleeping in the biggest bed all by herself?"

"I don't sleep by myself. Candy sleeps with me!"

Upon hearing her name, the black lab picks her head up off her forepaws. She looks first at Laura and then at the rest of people in the room. When no one responds, issues a command, or offers a treat, she gets up and walks over to stand in the middle of Laura's drawing paper. As she starts to lie down on top of a section of artwork Laura says, "No! Not there dog! You scoot over. Candy scoot." She nudges her furry friend gently until the dog gets up, walks to one corner of the paper and lies down again where she continues to watch Laura draw.

Harm laughs and winks at Laura before teasing. "She has the biggest bed, because she's the person in control of this house and every living soul in it."

"Na uh!" Laura says grinning. "Aunt Mac is in charge Harm! I got the big bed because she likes the little one better. Besides, I like the big bed. I never had a bed that big before. You can use it tonight if you stay." She looks at both Frank and Trish hopefully. "Please stay."

"I promise to change the sheets and all the blankets. You don't have to sleep in a nest of dog hair." Mac says.

The two older adults look around the room and then at each other. Trish raises an eyebrow and Frank responds, "I think we're outnumbered." So she nods; consenting.

"Good then. It's settled." Harm stands up; headed for the kitchen. "Frank, you want a beer?"

Frank nods.

"Mom? Glass of wine?"

Trish squints. "I'm not sure that's very polite of us Harm." She says, casting an uncertain glance Mac's way.

"As long as it's your drink, it's not a problem Trish. We only have a problem if it's my drink. Harm assures me he picked up a nice Riesling. Have some if you like. He won't drink the whole bottle himself."

She nods still somewhat uncertain and notices that Laura watches Harm cross the room with an odd expression on her young face. To Mac she says, "I guess I thought it would be too much temptation for you to have liquor in the house."

"First, an alcoholic doesn't need a reason to drink. There doesn't have to be temptation. However, there rarely ever is liquor here." Mac tips her head in Harm's direction. He likes a good beer or an infrequent glass of wine. Anything harder, for him, is rare. I never really liked the taste of either. It was bourbon and/or vodka that got me into trouble. In all the time we've known each other Trish, I may have seen him buzzed once or twice, but he never overdoes it, and that's where the big temptation really hits me. I see people having too much fun and I'm tempted to join in. As a teenager, I ran around with troublemakers who drank to loose control and to escape because losing control at home was never an option, and we all wanted to escape. There's not a lot of temptation with Harm around. In fact, he's seen me lose control. He didn't care for it. He can make a girl rather determined not to show that side of herself again. He's good for me that way. Your son does not like to lose control." Mac says, aware that Harm is listening.

"Tell me about it! His dad was the same way. Drove me crazy! Always so buttoned up; squared away."

"Nice to hear he was human. Harm's better than he used to be, but his dad's still pretty far up there on that pedestal." Mac smiles in his direction, and then suddenly casts an uncertain look in his mother's. "Uh… I didn't mean to imply that he was unworthy… Just that sometimes I suspect Harm's memory may be a little rose-colored."

Trish smiles warmly, putting Mac at ease again. "Oh, it is. Not that he didn't deserve to be loved and respected the way a father should. He certainly did, but all five-year-olds think their fathers are heroes. Harm's vision of his father, while it certainly wouldn't have changed completely, might have shifted slightly if Harmon had been around when he was a teenager. By the time he was, all he had left of his father were a few possessions, memories, and his looks. It's awfully hard to strip the hero of his cape, or in his case, clip his golden wings, when that's all that's left. I didn't even have the heart to try. It would've been cruel."

Mac nods. "I agree, on all points but one. Not all five-year-olds think their fathers are heroes; sometimes not even if they wear Marine green. Part of me use to be a little jealous. I think I even resented him for it on some level. I'd rather live with the memory of a gone, but never forgotten, father who loved and cherished me than the reality of growing up with the one who terrified and degraded me."

Wanting more information, and not just about her feelings for Harm, Trish asks with no judgment; only curiosity. "You resented him?"

Mac nods sheepishly. "Only for a little while. I tried really hard not to like your son. He just refused to stay unlikable." Mac playfully hurls one of the sofa's throw pillows in his general direction. It sails over the counter that divides the kitchen from the living room, but Harm sidesteps it, grins, and rolls his eyes. "I was really annoyed with him about that for awhile. Then it got even worse! Then I started to care about him. It's awfully hard to resent people for the good things in their lives when you care about them. Falling in love with them doesn't make it any easier. In fact, the opposite starts to happen. It'll almost make you glad you were the one with the lousy parents, because as bad as that is, it's better than thinking about the possibility of him not having good parents. I've come to realize that his slightly rosy view of his father is really a wonderful thing… or at least the fact that nobody ever proved him wrong is."

"Maybe someday someone will look at him through similar eyes. I still miss the way his whole face would light up when he heard his father's car in the driveway. I don't know what your plans are, but I wouldn't mind seeing that look again on a new face."

In response to the sudden uncomfortable look on Mac's face, Frank Burnett says, "Honey, let them get married before you start lobbying for grandchildren."

"That would be a really good idea." Harm says, joining them again. He hands his mother a glass of dry wine, and Frank takes one of the two open beer bottles clasped between the fingers of his outstretched hand before he settles on the sofa again and drapes a comforting arm around Mac's shoulders. Giving her reassuring squeeze, he also offers her a raised eyebrow. She is both still and quiet for a moment before she nods; consenting to his unanswered question.

"What?" Trish asks aware of, but not understanding, the silent communication that passes between the two of them.

"It's going to happen Mom; just not in the usual way."

Both Trish and Frank wear puzzled expressions. "The usual way?" Trish queries with uncertainty. "Is there more than one way?" she smiles, teasing her son, but instantly regrets it when Mac responds.

"Thank God there is." She says quietly; squeezing Harm's hand to indicate that he should fill in the blanks.

"Mac has a condition... a severe case of endometriosis. It causes a thickening of the uterine lining. Scar tissue forms. It's going to make conception next to impossible for us… At least without medical help. There are procedures we can try. There's also surrogacy but Mac really wants to carry a child." He rubs her shoulders. "We may have to adopt. However it happens, it's going to happen."

Mac and Trish exchange sad smiles. "He keeps telling me that; like he knows for sure."

"I do."

"I know you think it comforts me, but it doesn't Harm. It scares me. You say that, and all I can think about is the fact that I'm probably going to let you down." She tries to get up off the sofa, eager to leave the room… eager to be anywhere else, but Harm holds tight. Shaking his head, he won't let her go. For a moment, irritation flashes in her dark eyes. It burns hot and quick, and then dies just as quickly. Giving in, she rests her head on his shoulder and settles into his embrace; letting him quiet the panic rising inside her that threatens to strangle her.

"It will all work out." He says quietly.

"You've already got me." Laura says, sounding small and scared. It isn't until that moment that Mac realizes the girl has come to stand beside her. The sad look on her face leads Mac to slide out of Harm's embrace and pick the girl up.

"Yes we do, and we love you." She cuddles with Laura affectionately, but when Harm tries to join in, she pulls away from him timidly. She retreats into her aunt's embrace and when that is still too close for comfort, she tries to leave the sofa.

Confused by this, Harm looks slightly stung. Even his parents look surprised as Laura's shocked aunt stammers, "Laura what's the matter with you?"

Mac holds on to the silent girl, waiting for an answer. Outside, thunder rolls and lightening splits the sky. Mutely, Laura jumps, shakes her head vehemently, and stares wide eyed at a point somewhere beyond Harm's left shoulder.

"Hey sweetheart, what's wrong?"

This confuses Laura. The tenderness in Harm's voice makes her want to hug him, but she won't. She frowns and offers Mac a pleading expression.

"Baby, you have to tell us what's wrong." Mac coaxes as Harm notices the fixed stare again. He follows her gaze to the beer bottle on the end table.

"Ah okay, I think I understand. I'm sorry sweetheart. We didn't even think about it. Did we?"

Laura's frightened eyes flick his way and then return to the bottle.

"Will it make you feel better if I throw that away?"

Laura nods silently.

He starts to get up, but as she begins to understand what's happening, Mac reaches out and catches his hand. "No Harm." She hugs Laura tightly. "Finish the drink."

"Mac, look at her face!" he says stunned by the request.

"I know. I know exactly how scared she is. That's why you have to do it. Harm, she needs someone to show her that not every person who enjoys a beer turns violent and ugly. We both know I can't do it. Please. I don't like that she's scared anymore than you do, but I don't want her to be scared for the rest of her life." Mac scoots away from him as far as the sofa will let her go; taking Laura along with her. She holds the girl tightly and promises, "It will be okay. Harm's going to finish his drink, and when he's done, he'll still be the same guy. Not everybody gets mean Laura. I promise, you'll see."

Laura is caught somewhere between her fears and wanting to believe her aunt. She scowls more scared than angry, but crosses her arms over her chest anyway. "I don't want to sit here." She declares, but not with her usual vigor.

"Okay. You don't have to sit here if you don't want to. But, we're not going to hide in any closets or lock ourselves in the bathroom." Mac lets her climb down.

When she is down, she stands looking at Mac, "Will you come draw with me?"

Mac scoots off the sofa and slides over to the long piece of paper on the floor. Picking up an art pencil, she pats the floor beside her, inviting Laura, and offers Trish a grateful smile when she silently joins them.

* * *

**Chapter 32: Things Unsaid**

* * *

Author's Note: Okay gang, I have a quick complaint. As I've said before, I like reviews. They feed the creative process. I even welcome polite constructive criticism. However, there is a difference between politely criticizing one part of the story and complaining about something each and every time a person reviews. If you like the story, please let me know. If you think I'm a little off base or out of character it's okay to let me know that too. I welcome those comments, but if you truly don't like the story as a whole, please feel free to stop reading! It's not helpful for a disgruntled reader to waste their time or mine with constant negativity. If you know that you haven't constantly done this, please ignore this message. For all my happy followers, enough said, on with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

* * *

Sunday, August 26, 2007

San Diego California

When he comes back into the dimly lit room, she offers him a sleepy smile in the glow from the hurricane lamp and waits for him to settle in again beside her. "She okay?" Mac murmurs.

"She's fine." He whispers, sliding beneath the quilt. "She wouldn't say so, but I think she just wanted a hug. She wanted to know we're still okay after what happened tonight. As soon as she got one she crawled back under the sheet and curled up in your sleeping bag." Harm says; referring to the sheet draped across the backs of dining room chairs –a makeshift fort for Laura to sleep in. "However, she's still a little peeved about the fact that you threw her sleeping bag away Mac." He grins at her.

Mac snuggles close. "I don't know what possessed me to tell her about that. I should have known better. She's just scared she's going to need it again at some point. She'll be alright. It's just going to take a little while to convince her. She sure likes the tent in the living room."

"Well of course she does, and it's not just a tent, it's a fort Mac."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She laughs. I didn't mean to offend your architectural sensibilities."

"Oh come on. Didn't you ever do that?"

"What? Make a tent in the living room using old bed linens and my mother's dining room chairs? No, I never did."

"Well, we'll have to do it again before I leave, so we can join her. You don't know what you missed out on." He says in a hushed tone before dropping a light kiss on her temple.

"Harm?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are we whispering?"

"We're whispering because this is a small house and my mother's in the next room."

"Your mom's in the kitchen?"

"Uh huh."

"It's after 2300. Is she okay?"

"As okay as can be expected. I don't remember storms bothering her when I was at home. Frank says in the last few years she doesn't sleep at night when a storm blows through."

"First, I know why. I hope you gave her a hug too Flyboy." Mac lectures; still sounding sleepy and mildly annoyed.

"You do?"

Mac nods against his shoulder and keeps her voice low. "I'd bet the whole of my next paycheck it has something to do with her son putting a plane in the Atlantic on a night like this. She almost lost you. Keeps me awake on stormy nights too."

"Could you not say that as if I did it on purpose? It wasn't exactly a Sunday drive through the mountains for me either."

Mac rubs his chest, letting her fingers come to rest beneath the thin fabric of his sleeveless white tee shirt just over his heart. "Yeah, I know." she says, the steady two-part rhythm of his heartbeat comforting her only a bit. "I'm sorry." She shivers, suddenly chilled to the bone despite his warm embrace."

"You're cold?"

With the far away note of painful recollection in her voice, she misinterprets the question for a statement "So were you."I've never felt such cold. You were freezing to death. Literally hypothermic. If I ever have to feel that again, I hope it's me, not you."

Confused and alarmed. He raises his voice. "Mac, what are you talking about?"

"Shhh…" Mac places a fingertip against his lips. Removing it, she offers him a quick kiss. "That's the other thing I was going to tell you. First, I know why she doesn't sleep on stormy nights and second, if she's in the kitchen, she can hear any noise in this room above a whisper through the air vent this room shares with the kitchen."

He whispers this time. "You can't be in both rooms at the same time. How do you know this?"

"Sometimes I stand in the kitchen and listen to Laura talking to her dog in here. They have very entertaining conversations."

"Mac! That's eavesdropping!"

"Didn't mean to! At least, not the first time. It was just so damn cute. I used to talk to my dog too. No worries he was ever gonna tell a soul any of my secrets." She pulls the quilt up around her shoulders still trying to chase away the chill that invaded her from the inside out.

"You are cold." He says quietly; rubbing her back.

"It'll go away in a minute. It has nothing to do with the temperature in this room."

"Mac, what were you talking about?"

"It happens whenever I think about that night. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Well, you did. So spill it. C'mon Mac, talk to me."

Clinging to him in the dark as if he himself is a lifeline, she whispers hesitantly. "Chloe asked me to try and… locate you. It was her idea for me to attempt to get a read on you. I was terrified it wouldn't work. It's the one and only time it ever has worked when I'm awake. Since it first happened with Chloe, anytime I've found someone that I could connect with, it has always just been by using my memory of the dream I've had previously. I don't know for sure why this one was so intense. Maybe because I was awake, although that doesn't fit with my previous assumptions about the dreams. I've always assumed that the reason I saw things in my sleep was because it was the only time my unconscious mind could breach my consciousness. Maybe it has to do with the strength of our bond. Maybe it's a little of both. Maybe it had to do with my own heightened emotional state at the time; but I guess that leads back to our bond. Before that, I'd seen things that confused, or even frightened me. Physical sensation… Shared physical sensation, was never a part of it. Not before that night, and not since, thank God. Don't get me wrong, I'd do that again for you, for Laura, or for Chloe. But I don't want to do that for just anyone who walks through my dreams. For hours after that, my ears wouldn't stop ringing. There were moments when I had to stop and catch my breath. I couldn't get warm no matter how hard I tried. After that night, Harm I'm convinced; there is no fire in hell. Hell it is as frigid and wet as the storm-tossed Atlantic. It invades the soul. I've never felt so tired. I felt weighted down; like when your clothes are wet. It made simple movement exhausting. It felt as if going to sleep forever would be the easiest thing in the world to do. Like all you had to do was surrender and it would be over. By the time I found you, I could feel all that; and I think you may have had a headache too, from the concussion. I certainly had one for the rest of the night. You were hanging on by a fraying thread when I found you. That was the only thing that kept me from collapsing when the vision ended. I nearly did collapse. Beyond getting you to safety, all I wanted to do was find a dark corner, curl into old ball, and wail."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers.

"What? I was supposed to tell you how bad it was for me? That's kind of selfish; isn't it?"

"Mac, you're the only other living person who knows exactly what I felt that night. You should have told me."

"It's hard to tell you even now. I get cold just talking about it. Besides anybody else would've thought I was ready for a rubber room. Moments when I really struggled with it, I noticed that The Admiral kept an eye on me, he was almost nice. He never asked, but I think he knew there was more going on with me than I wanted anyone to know."

"You should have talked to him."

Mac shakes her head. "I wanted people focused on you; not me. If just one person had been less focused; you might not be here. Besides, he did help me. I told the search team to go back to a place that they'd already been. They missed you. They didn't want to go back. I still remember the Admiral saying that he wouldn't pretend to understand my ability, but that he wouldn't doubt it either… or words to that effect. They did go back, on his recommendation… Actually" Harm feels her smile against his shoulder. "It was more of an order, but it helped me. I didn't feel quite so 'paranormal' after that."

"I know you don't like it much, but it's saved my hide more than once, and I'm damn grateful for it Mac."

"I'm just grateful you're safe."

"I should have said thank you." he whispers.

"You did."

"I did? I don't remember that."

"First time I came to see you in the hospital. It was the first thing you said to me. You don't remember?"

"No."

"Well you did. You also had a concussion, I'm not surprised things are a little sketchy in your memory. While you're busy saying thank you's I think you should send one up your dad's way."

"Oh?"

Everybody in the room was staring at me that night. There's nothing quite like having an audience while you do something that nobody understands; including you. It made it extremely hard to relax, but I have to in order to get to the place I have to be in. When I'm trying too hard to figure out or interpret a dream of the same nature, it's like somebody's finger is on the pause button. I have to relax. Go with it; not work against it. So there I was, trying desperately to relax and focus on you. Thoughts of your dad kept popping into my head. At first it was incredibly frustrating. I kept trying to shut him out and refocus. It probably only took me a few seconds, maybe a minute, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, when I quit trying to close that door… There you were. I could see you. I felt what you felt. And inexplicably, I knew just where to point to on the map; latitude and longitude. It flies in the face of logic Harm, but I wouldn't have known your location; not without his help. I know it sounds insane, but he still watching over you."

He kisses the top of her head when he feels a teardrop soak through the front of his tee shirt. "It's not insane. You both were on my mind that night. At one point I thought you both were there with me. Until now, I had assumed that it was a hallucination brought on by hypothermia. It was just a couple minutes later; they were pulling me out of the water. I was barely conscious, but I do remember thinking. She's gonna kill me! I just shot the hell out of her rehearsal dinner!"

Mac laughs and reflexively covers her mouth. "Good thing you did. Just don't do it this time around!" she hisses.

"Not gonna happen! I promise I won't miss this one… or mess it up!"

"Harm, we don't have time for a rehearsal dinner."

"Probably not. We'll see."

"Harm, you're being cryptic."

"Am I? Go to sleep Marine. You have to go to work tomorrow."

"And shopping too. Your mom and I are going shopping on my lunch break. We're taking Laura to find a dress for the wedding. Oh, and we have to see about getting a license soon. There's no waiting period in California, but we better get moving; especially if you want us to get married a day or two before next Saturday."

"I got it covered. I'll let you know tomorrow when you get home when we're going to get the license."

Mac lifts her head off his shoulder. "You got it covered, huh?"

"I do." he whispers suggestively flashing his flyboy grin as he reaches out to extinguish the flame in hurricane lamp on the bedside table.

"Harmon Rabb what have you got up your sleeve?"

"Go to sleep Sarah."


	7. Monday, August 27, 2007

**Crossing the Ocean **

**Chapter 33: Shop Till You Drop **

* * *

Author's Note: This has nothing to do with tonight's chapter, I just have to say, last night I watched Heroes from season three. You know, the episode where the seal who was HIV positive committed suicide by stepping into the line of fire. It was also the well known episode where Harm fires a gun into the courtroom ceiling. I'm sorry if anyone disagrees with me, but this was one of the stupidest episodes!

This was one of those episodes where I didn't like Harm or Mac! As far as I can tell, DPB had an idea where he wanted the episode to go and he was determined to make it go there no matter how badly he had to botch the show or butcher his characters.

First, I'm not in the military, I'm not a ballistics expert, and I don't spend a lot of time in courtrooms. Although I know physical evidence is sometimes allowed in the courtroom, even weapons, I sincerely doubt that loaded weapons are ever permitted in the courtroom; except in the case of court officers and the weapons they carry.

Furthermore, I know Harm is passionate, sometimes to the point that it gets him into trouble, but I can't see him recklessly endangering the lives of everyone in that courtroom; no matter how fired up he was. And what? The only punishment he received for such reckless behavior was paying for the damage? Again, I'm not in the military, but somehow I doubt this is realistic. I think the military holds its people to a higher standard than that.

As for the way he misled Mac with regard to the ammunition, I didn't like it. That said, I also understand it. It was a lawyer's ploy; nothing more. Was it slightly underhanded? Yes, but in my opinion Mac blew it totally out of proportion! Even if, as Harm suggested, the guy had been hit by a ricochet; Mac is certainly smart enough to realize that he wasn't hit by multiple ricochets.

I also understand her initial anger when she realized that she'd been tricked. However, it went on for far too long. At some point, a rational adult realizes that the reason they are ticked off isn't because they were tricked, it's because they're embarrassed they fell for it. The scene where she refused to walk through the door that Harm was holding open for her was just childish. While she can occasionally be childish, Mac isn't one of those huffy feminists who get ticked off at a guy for opening a door for her. She likes that kind of attention, sometimes a little too much.

And finally, the scene where Harm throws the drink in the seal's father's face-excuse me if this is sexist- but that's behavior I expect from woman. Not that I had done this myself, but neither have I ever seen one man do that to another man. How about it gentleman? Any thoughts? I understand what motivated Harm to do it, but as a woman, even I didn't want to throw a drink in his face. I wanted to knock the man's teeth down his throat. I know Harm couldn't do that either. It certainly would have been called conduct unbecoming at the very least, but the drink in the face… Just felt…way off!

Anyway, that's my rant for the day! On with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

* * *

Monday, August 27, 2007

San Diego California

"I want yellow and green!" Laura shakes her head in response to the yellow dress Mac is holding up.

In, Lollipops & Lace, a ridiculously frilly boutique for little girls, Mac answers "I know you do baby, but this is the fourth store we'd been in and it's the last we're going to visit. I have to go back to work soon. Harm and I would like to get married sometime within the next three days. We're a little pressed for time. I think it's going to have to be either/or; not both."

"I want yellow and green!" Laura repeats, crossing her arms over her small chest stubbornly, and pleading with big eyes.

Mac chews on her lower lip as she glances at rack after rack of little girl's dresses. Debating with herself she wonders, should she put her foot down now or give it ten more minutes? She kneels in front of Laura's walker. "Laura, pick out a yellow dress and the green dress. We'll carry both with us while we look one more time. I'll give you eight more minutes. If we don't find a dress that is both yellow and green in eight minutes, then you'll have to choose one of the other two; deal?"

Pouting, Laura acquiesces, "Okay." she says unhappily.

"Atta girl. Roll your bottom lip back in before you trip over it." Mac pushes her bangs out of her face "Pick which two you like best."

Mac holds up dresses one after the other according to color. Laura either points in the acceptance or shakes her head in denial. She chooses a short mint green dress with a layered skirt and a dozen tiny buttons up the back as well as a sleeveless pale yellow dress with an ankle length A-line skirt and a soft satin sash that ties in the back.

"Thank you. Those are nice choices. Let's go find Trish and see if she found anything good on the sales rack in back"

Laura takes off, moving as fast as she can.

"Slow down kiddo. Stay where I can see you." Mac says hurrying after her.

In a matter of seconds, Laura gives up trying to peer over the abundance of clothing racks; all of them taller than she is. "Miss Trish where are you?"

"Stay where you are darling. I will come to you."

Mac catches up to Laura at the same moment that Trish rounds a corner holding up the only garment to bring a smile to Laura's face in nearly 45 minutes.

"Yes! You found it! I want that one!" She points emphatically at the yellow dress with the pleated skirt that is covered in a fine mossy green lace.

Mac hangs the two dresses she's already holding on a nearby rack. "Hang on. We have to see if it fits."

"It should." Trish confirms; motioning them both toward a fitting room.

Minutes later, Laura looks at herself in a full length mirror. She nods her head with enthusiasm. "Can I have it? Please?"

Mac checks the price tag and is surprised to find that the dress is marked down 70%. She looks it over one more time; just to be sure she didn't miss any damage. "Is there anything wrong with it?" she looks at Trish.

"No, the store owner decided to stop carrying merchandise from this designer. She wants to get rid of it."

"Sold!" Mac smiles at Laura. "Take it off. Let's go pay for it."

Another rushed two minutes go by and they exit the fitting rooms.

"They've got hats and hair bows to match. Laura, will you wear a hat?" Trish asks.

Hurrying passed at Mac's insistence; Laura glances at a display of fussy looking hats on a nearby wall. She frowns and wrinkles her nose. "Those hats are for girls who are afraid of dirt! Mom and Mimi always try to make me wear those stupid things… And those stupid shiny shoes too; they hurt my feet. And then, they say 'Sit there and don't get dirty!' It's no fun!"

Trish laughs merrily at the girl's declaration while Mac simply smiles; remembering all too well.

"Ah well, no hat then." Trish says; sounding equally amused and disappointed. She purses her lips in thought, how about a yellow hair bow with a green lizard on it… or maybe a dragonfly?

"Dragonfly!" Laura exclaims with certainty. "I've got lizard barrettes at home already."

"Now, what do we do about your shoes?"

"Laura," Mac intercedes. "You can either pick a dress shoe that will go nicely with the dress… but you won't be able to walk in them very well, or you can pick a shoe that will fly in the face of fashion, and keep you upright at the same time." Mac looks at Trish. "Sorry, I know you're having as much fun as she is, but little girl's dress shoes aren't going to give her the support she needs."

Trish nods and shrugs. "She's seven. She's allowed to make her own fashion statement."

"Dress flats that will make you feel tired and slow you down, or matching yellow high top sneakers kiddo?"

"Sneakers!" Laura proclaims as if it should be obvious.

Mac nods. "That's what I thought. It's probably the best choice too. Our wedding day might be a long day for you. The lime green shoes you already have are a bit loud for this dress. Let's see if we can find a softer yellow. With all that green lace, we could tie a pink bandanna around your leg and call you Punky Brewster."

"Who's Punky Brewster?"

Before answering Mac says, "Walk this way. We need to hurry… She was a very colorful kid on a TV show way before your time. I think she tried to wear every color of the rainbow every day. You would've liked her and all her bright colors. She was an orphan adopted by an old man named Henry. Henry was grouchy, but he took good care of her."

"Punky's a funny name." Laura says, following along

"I think her name was Penelope, but she didn't like to be called Penelope. She chose Punky instead."

As Mac sorts through shoes looking for the right color and size Laura inquires, "Why was she an orphan? What happened to her parents?"

"I don't remember if the show ever mentioned her dad. It was a long time ago, but I think her mother abandoned her in a grocery store."

"That sucks! Was Henry nice to her; even though he was grouchy?"

"He was really nice to her; even though she had a knack for getting herself into trouble… How about these?" Mac asks, holding up a pair of sneakers the same shade of yellow as the dress.

Laura nods happily.

"Okay, now we really do have to go. We've got to get you back home."

"I want to stay with Miss Trish." Laura says matter-of-factly.

Mac laughs nervously. "Laura, Trish probably has things to do today. You can't just invite yourself along; it's rude baby."

"I didn't invite myself. I just said I wanted to. She can still say no. That's not rude. Is it?" She looks back and forth between the two women; slightly concerned. "I didn't mean to be."

Trish offers Laura a warm smile. "She's absolutely right Mac. I can still say no… but I won't. I'm going to get my hair done. She needs a haircut anyway, and I'd love the company. Laura, how would you like to go to the salon with me?"

Laura nods emphatically; her eyes pleading with Mac.

Trish is also waiting expectantly.

Stepping up to the cash register, Mac surrenders. "Oh alright."

"Good!" Trish declares. "After the salon, on our way home, we'll stop at the gallery for a few minutes. I'll show you all the pretty art. Harm can pick you up at my house this evening in time for dinner."

Laura nods again and Mac looks concerned. "Trish, don't give her any art pencils while you're at the gallery She will likely decide that some of the art work needs to be embellished."

"As the sales clerk takes Mac's things to ring up the total Trish whispers, some of it could use some embellishment."

While Mac is busy paying for purchases Trish asks Laura, "Other than art pencils and sketch paper, what else do you like? What are your favorite toys? I don't have any Barbie dolls at my house. Do we need to get one?

With a sour expression Laura announces, "Barbie's head is hollow! You got any toy cars, trucks, airplanes… Things like that?

Listening in, even though she's busy, Mac bursts out laughing. Understanding her, Trish joins in.

"What's funny?" Laura demands sweetly. "She asked me what I like to play with. I didn't say anything funny."

Still laughing, Mac answers. "Cars…trucks… airplanes. Laura, something tells me that Trish probably has an entire truck full of toy airplanes!"

"Oh, I do! Harm's old toy box may be buried under 30 years of dust, but I promise you Laura, you'll have more airplanes than you'll know what to do with. Airplanes, fighter jets and carriers to land them on, helicopters, space shuttles, and even a few flying saucers; basically if it was meant to fly, I've got it."

Laura watches Mac pick up their shopping bags from the counter, and then glances at Trish. "Okay then! I'm ready; let's go!"


	8. Tuesday, August 28, 2007

**Chapter 33: Shop Til You Drop**

* * *

Author's Note: This has nothing to do with tonight's chapter, I just have to say, last night I watched Heroes from season three. You know, the episode where the seal who was HIV positive committed suicide by stepping into the line of fire. It was also the well known episode where Harm fires a gun into the courtroom ceiling. I'm sorry if anyone disagrees with me, but this was one of the stupidest episodes!

This was one of those episodes where I didn't like Harm or Mac! As far as I can tell, DPB had an idea where he wanted the episode to go and he was determined to make it go there no matter how badly he had to botch the show or butcher his characters.

First, I'm not in the military, I'm not a ballistics expert, and I don't spend a lot of time in courtrooms. Although I know physical evidence is sometimes allowed in the courtroom, even weapons, I sincerely doubt that loaded weapons are ever permitted in the courtroom; except in the case of court officers and the weapons they carry.

Furthermore, I know Harm is passionate, sometimes to the point that it gets him into trouble, but I can't see him recklessly endangering the lives of everyone in that courtroom; no matter how fired up he was. And what? The only punishment he received for such reckless behavior was paying for the damage? Again, I'm not in the military, but somehow I doubt this is realistic. I think the military holds its people to a higher standard than that.

As for the way he misled Mac with regard to the ammunition, I didn't like it. That said, I also understand it. It was a lawyer's ploy; nothing more. Was it slightly underhanded? Yes, but in my opinion Mac blew it totally out of proportion! Even if, as Harm suggested, the guy had been hit by a ricochet; Mac is certainly smart enough to realize that he wasn't hit by multiple ricochets.

I also understand her initial anger when she realized that she'd been tricked. However, it went on for far too long. At some point, a rational adult realizes that the reason they are ticked off isn't because they were tricked, it's because they're embarrassed they fell for it. The scene where she refused to walk through the door that Harm was holding open for her was just childish. While she can occasionally be childish, Mac isn't one of those huffy feminists who get ticked off at a guy for opening a door for her. She likes that kind of attention, sometimes a little too much.

And finally, the scene where Harm throws the drink in the seal's father's face-excuse me if this is sexist- but that's behavior I expect from woman. Not that I had done this myself, but neither have I ever seen one man do that to another man. How about it gentleman? Any thoughts? I understand what motivated Harm to do it, but as a woman, even I didn't want to throw a drink in his face. I wanted to knock the man's teeth down his throat. I know Harm couldn't do that either. It certainly would have been called conduct unbecoming at the very least, but the drink in the face… Just felt…way off!

Anyway, that's my rant for the day! On with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

* * *

Monday, August 27, 2007

San Diego California

"I want yellow and green!" Laura shakes her head in response to the yellow dress Mac is holding up.

In, Lollipops & Lace, a ridiculously frilly boutique for little girls, Mac answers "I know you do baby, but this is the fourth store we'd been in and it's the last we're going to visit. I have to go back to work soon. Harm and I would like to get married sometime within the next three days. We're a little pressed for time. I think it's going to have to be either/or; not both."

"I want yellow and green!" Laura repeats, crossing her arms over her small chest stubbornly, and pleading with big eyes.

Mac chews on her lower lip as she glances at rack after rack of little girl's dresses. Debating with herself she wonders, should she put her foot down now or give it ten more minutes? She kneels in front of Laura's walker. "Laura, pick out a yellow dress and the green dress. We'll carry both with us while we look one more time. I'll give you eight more minutes. If we don't find a dress that is both yellow and green in eight minutes, then you'll have to choose one of the other two; deal?"

Pouting, Laura acquiesces, "Okay." she says unhappily.

"Atta girl. Roll your bottom lip back in before you trip over it." Mac pushes her bangs out of her face "Pick which two you like best."

Mac holds up dresses one after the other according to color. Laura either points in the acceptance or shakes her head in denial. She chooses a short mint green dress with a layered skirt and a dozen tiny buttons up the back as well as a sleeveless pale yellow dress with an ankle length A-line skirt and a soft satin sash that ties in the back.

"Thank you. Those are nice choices. Let's go find Trish and see if she found anything good on the sales rack in back"

Laura takes off, moving as fast as she can.

"Slow down kiddo. Stay where I can see you." Mac says hurrying after her.

In a matter of seconds, Laura gives up trying to peer over the abundance of clothing racks; all of them taller than she is. "Miss Trish where are you?"

"Stay where you are darling. I will come to you."

Mac catches up to Laura at the same moment that Trish rounds a corner holding up the only garment to bring a smile to Laura's face in nearly 45 minutes.

"Yes! You found it! I want that one!" She points emphatically at the yellow dress with the pleated skirt that is covered in a fine mossy green lace.

Mac hangs the two dresses she's already holding on a nearby rack. "Hang on. We have to see if it fits."

"It should." Trish confirms; motioning them both toward a fitting room.

Minutes later, Laura looks at herself in a full length mirror. She nods her head with enthusiasm. "Can I have it? Please?"

Mac checks the price tag and is surprised to find that the dress is marked down 70%. She looks it over one more time; just to be sure she didn't miss any damage. "Is there anything wrong with it?" she looks at Trish.

"No, the store owner decided to stop carrying merchandise from this designer. She wants to get rid of it."

"Sold!" Mac smiles at Laura. "Take it off. Let's go pay for it."

Another rushed two minutes go by and they exit the fitting rooms.

"They've got hats and hair bows to match. Laura, will you wear a hat?" Trish asks.

Hurrying passed at Mac's insistence; Laura glances at a display of fussy looking hats on a nearby wall. She frowns and wrinkles her nose. "Those hats are for girls who are afraid of dirt! Mom and Mimi always try to make me wear those stupid things… And those stupid shiny shoes too; they hurt my feet. And then, they say 'Sit there and don't get dirty!' It's no fun!"

Trish laughs merrily at the girl's declaration while Mac simply smiles; remembering all too well.

"Ah well, no hat then." Trish says; sounding equally amused and disappointed. She purses her lips in thought, how about a yellow hair bow with a green lizard on it… or maybe a dragonfly?

"Dragonfly!" Laura exclaims with certainty. "I've got lizard barrettes at home already."

"Now, what do we do about your shoes?"

"Laura," Mac intercedes. "You can either pick a dress shoe that will go nicely with the dress… but you won't be able to walk in them very well, or you can pick a shoe that will fly in the face of fashion, and keep you upright at the same time." Mac looks at Trish. "Sorry, I know you're having as much fun as she is, but little girl's dress shoes aren't going to give her the support she needs."

Trish nods and shrugs. "She's seven. She's allowed to make her own fashion statement."

"Dress flats that will make you feel tired and slow you down, or matching yellow high top sneakers kiddo?"

"Sneakers!" Laura proclaims as if it should be obvious.

Mac nods. "That's what I thought. It's probably the best choice too. Our wedding day might be a long day for you. The lime green shoes you already have are a bit loud for this dress. Let's see if we can find a softer yellow. With all that green lace, we could tie a pink bandanna around your leg and call you Punky Brewster."

"Who's Punky Brewster?"

Before answering Mac says, "Walk this way. We need to hurry… She was a very colorful kid on a TV show way before your time. I think she tried to wear every color of the rainbow every day. You would've liked her and all her bright colors. She was an orphan adopted by an old man named Henry. Henry was grouchy, but he took good care of her."

"Punky's a funny name." Laura says, following along

"I think her name was Penelope, but she didn't like to be called Penelope. She chose Punky instead."

As Mac sorts through shoes looking for the right color and size Laura inquires, "Why was she an orphan? What happened to her parents?"

"I don't remember if the show ever mentioned her dad. It was a long time ago, but I think her mother abandoned her in a grocery store."

"That sucks! Was Henry nice to her; even though he was grouchy?"

"He was really nice to her; even though she had a knack for getting herself into trouble… How about these?" Mac asks, holding up a pair of sneakers the same shade of yellow as the dress.

Laura nods happily.

"Okay, now we really do have to go. We've got to get you back home."

"I want to stay with Miss Trish." Laura says matter-of-factly.

Mac laughs nervously. "Laura, Trish probably has things to do today. You can't just invite yourself along; it's rude baby."

"I didn't invite myself. I just said I wanted to. She can still say no. That's not rude. Is it?" She looks back and forth between the two women; slightly concerned. "I didn't mean to be."

Trish offers Laura a warm smile. "She's absolutely right Mac. I can still say no… but I won't. I'm going to get my hair done. She needs a haircut anyway, and I'd love the company. Laura, how would you like to go to the salon with me?"

Laura nods emphatically; her eyes pleading with Mac.

Trish is also waiting expectantly.

Stepping up to the cash register, Mac surrenders. "Oh alright."

"Good!" Trish declares. "After the salon, on our way home, we'll stop at the gallery for a few minutes. I'll show you all the pretty art. Harm can pick you up at my house this evening in time for dinner."

Laura nods again and Mac looks concerned. "Trish, don't give her any art pencils while you're at the gallery She will likely decide that some of the art work needs to be embellished."

"As the sales clerk takes Mac's things to ring up the total Trish whispers, some of it could use some embellishment."

While Mac is busy paying for purchases Trish asks Laura, "Other than art pencils and sketch paper, what else do you like? What are your favorite toys? I don't have any Barbie dolls at my house. Do we need to get one?

With a sour expression Laura announces, "Barbie's head is hollow! You got any toy cars, trucks, airplanes… Things like that?

Listening in, even though she's busy, Mac bursts out laughing. Understanding her, Trish joins in.

"What's funny?" Laura demands sweetly. "She asked me what I like to play with. I didn't say anything funny."

Still laughing, Mac answers. "Cars…trucks… airplanes. Laura, something tells me that Trish probably has an entire truck full of toy airplanes!"

"Oh, I do! Harm's old toy box may be buried under 30 years of dust, but I promise you Laura, you'll have more airplanes than you'll know what to do with. Airplanes, fighter jets and carriers to land them on, helicopters, space shuttles, and even a few flying saucers; basically if it was meant to fly, I've got it."

Laura watches Mac pick up their shopping bags from the counter, and then glances at Trish. "Okay then! I'm ready; let's go!"

* * *

**Chapter 34: Making the Announcement**

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, I watched the Straits of Malacca; the episode in which the Roberts' twins were introduced. Although there is some disagreement about this, even within the confines of my own mailbox, it is my belief that the little boy's name was Nicky as in Nicholas. No name was mentioned for his sister. I chose her name in honor of another JAG character for the part she played in saving Bud's life. The credit for this decision goes to reader, jpstar57 as he is the one and gave me the idea. He also mentioned that the idea came to him secondhand, by way of writer mkim 57. Many thanks to you both.

On with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

* * *

Monday, August 27, 2007

San Diego California

Surprised to find her house empty, except for Laura's furry friend, Mac lets the dog out. While she's gone, Mac sets out fresh food and water for her. She looks around the kitchen and living room. No Harm, no Laura, no note. Maybe Harm went to pick Laura up. She shrugs it off and goes to change out of her uniform before re-entering the kitchen and walking to the refrigerator.

Half an hour later, she is setting aside a portion of the marinara sauce on the stove for Harm before adding ground beef to the larger portion for herself and Laura when she feels a pair of strong arms slide around her waist from behind. Only mildly startled, she leans into his embrace.

"I didn't hear you come in." she murmurs.

"I'm not surprised. With the exception of the smell of dead animal frying, it smells pretty good in here. Your mind is probably focused on your stomach."

"Be nice squid, or you don't get any. Where's my niece? Mac asks looking around the room; confused by Laura's absence.

"She's at Mom and Frank's."

"Still? My understanding was that you were picking her up this evening in time for dinner."

"That was the plan. Plan got changed. I went to get her. When I got there, she was sitting at the kitchen bar in Frank's lap. She was eating barbecue chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed asparagus." Harm's mouth stretches into a wide grin and one eyebrow arches curiously. "She was also telling Frank how to play chess."

Mac raises an eyebrow of her own. "I take it Frank doesn't know how to play chess?"

"Frank loves to play chess, and he's exceptionally good at it."

Mac chuckles. "But Laura was telling him how to play?"

Harm nods, holding back laughter. "Yes, according to her own rules, and I think she was making them up as she went along." He mimics Laura. "You can't move that direction you have to go this direction. My castle stays here! Your horsey can't have my lady!"

"Was Frank even trying to teach her to the proper way to play?"

"Apparently they take turns. They play one game by his rules and then one by her rules. Mom was making dessert and watching all of this with the sappiest smile on her face."

Mac laughs. "That doesn't surprise me at all, not after our shopping trip today. Harm, you should've had a sister. Your mother loves having a little girl around."

"So I gather. Laura has a new haircut, a manicure and a pedicure. She has pink fingernails, and flame orange toenails, along with a purple streak in her hair."

Not in the least bit fooled, Mac shakes her head. There is no way on this earth that a class act like your mother let Laura dye her hair purple."

"Well it fooled me at first. It's artificial, it fastens into her hair by a barrette, and mom told her she wasn't allowed to wear it in public; but when I walked into the kitchen, there she was, a fork in one hand, a model tomcat in the other, orange toes, purple streak in her hair, and refusing to let Frank play a proper game of chess. All this, and my mother was grinning like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. She never let me bring toys to the table when I ate."

Mac laughs at the wounded note in his voice. "Probably because if she had; you wouldn't have eaten. You'd had been too busy playing. Laura doesn't have that problem. Even bossing Frank around won't come between her and a meal."

"Mom says they'll bring her home before bedtime. How long before this is ready?" he points to the stove.

"We can eat now if you hungry enough. If you can wait, it'll be better if we let it simmer for half an hour."

In response, Harm turns the heat on the stove down; nearly all the way. "I can wait." he whispers suggestively.

Mac turns in his arms to face him. "What'd you have in mind?" she breathes, sure she knows the answer.

Drawing out the suspense, Harm offers her a series of quick kisses that start with her lips and end in the hollow of her neck. Just when he senses her surrender, he stops, gently pulls away, and takes hold of her hand; pulling her across the room. "Come on." he smiles wickedly. "Let's go call Bud and Harriett!"

Mac throws back her head and laughs. "Harm!" she objects, but follows after him anyway; wrapping her arms around him from behind.

A minute later the young voice of the Robert's eldest son comes tentatively through the phone line, "Aunt Mac?"

Mac smiles at Harm as she answers the boy. "Hi A.J. How did you know it was me?"

"Cuz, the caller ID says S. Mackenzie."

"Ah, it's getting late in DC. Are you up passed your bedtime?

"I gotta B+ on my spelling test. Mom said if I got better than a C, I could stay up and watch one Star Trek with Dad."

"Oh, well good job! I'm proud of you. I need to speak to your mom and dad. Can you get both of them for me?"

A.J. sounds more curious than worried. "Is it something bad or something good?"

"What?"

"If you wanna talk to both of them at the same time, it's either about something really bad or something really good."

Chuckling, Harm leans a little closer to the phone. "Hey champ. It's something really good."

"Uncle Harm? Is that you?" He can hear A.J.'s excitement ramp up another notch.

"Yeah, it's me. Go get mom and dad, okay pal?

They hear him set the phone down. They hear his little feet pounding the floor as he runs from the room yelling as loud as he can. "Mom! Dad! Come quick; hurry!" They hear Bud and Harriet's muffled responses; mingled with mild alarm. "Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm are both on the phone. They wanna talk to both of you and it's not bad news!"

Before the Roberts pick up the phone Harm tells Mac, "That boy belongs to his mother!"

A moment later, Harriet is the first on the line. "Well it's about time you called sailor! You left here a week ago and I haven't heard a peep from you! … Hello Ma'am." Harriett adds when she's through chastising Harm.

In good humor, Mac rolls her eyes. "Harriet, what happened to calling me Mac?"

"Sorry, old habit. So I guess you two made up?" she asks hopefully, and then covers the phone's mouthpiece with her hand, "Oh for Heaven's sake Bud, will you hurry up."

"I'm coming honey. Jenny's got gum in her hair again!"

"Well I told you not to give her anymore gum didn't I? Jennifer Coates Roberts, you spit that gum in the trash this instant."

"Harriett it's already in the trash." Bud answers. "Well, at least the part that's not in her hair." he clarifies; trying to remove gum from his own fingers as he comes close, "Okay, I'm here now. Hello Sir, Ma'am; what's up?"

"Bud, I hope you're not covered in bubble gum. You might want to put your arm around Harriet."

"Why would I want to do that?" Bud asks absent-mindedly and then grunts when Harriett apparently elbows him in the ribs.

"Aww Harriet, you know what I mean!"

Before they can continue Mac answers, "Yes Harriett, we did make up."

"No more cold war?"

"No more cold war." Mac confirms.

"Thank goodness." Harriet says with her usual zeal. "You two were really starting to break my heart."

"It gets better."

"Oh? Better how?"

Mac nods at Harm, and then moves the phone away from both their ears in anticipation.

"We're getting married. That's how." Harm tells her.

For one brief moment in time no sound at all can be heard over the connection, and then a shriek of happiness loud enough to nearly make their ears bleed travels through the phone line.

Bud objects loudly and Harm can picture his friend with his finger stuck in his ear. "Keep squealing honey. I've already got a prosthetic leg. I guess having a hearing aid too won't be a big deal. It's not like I actually need to hear."

"Oh Bud!" then Harriet immediately turns her attention back to the couple on the other end of the phone. "When's the wedding? Do you have a dress yet? Do you have a license yet? Where are you getting married? Where are you going to live? What can we do to help?"

They both laugh. "First, slow down Harriet, take a breath. Second, Harm has to answer your questions. He's the official wedding planner. I have to go answer the door; somebody's knocking. I'll be right back."

* * *

**Chapter 35: Conversations**

* * *

Author's note: I'm pretty sure I got A.J. Roberts' age right for the story's timeline. If he was a week from five when the Admiral retired, and six when the show ended, I think eight is about right. I guessed about Jimmy's age. If mistakes were made, I do apologize. On with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

* * *

Monday, August 27, 2007

Washington, DC

Eight year old A.J. Roberts leaves his happy parents on the kitchen phone and returns to the den where his younger brother Jimmy is lying on the floor. With his chin propped on the heel of his right hand, he stares at the TV screen; watching as Lieutenant Commander Data strokes his cat, Spot. Without so much a shifting his gaze A.J.'s way Jimmy asks, "What's Mom happy about this time?"

A.J. flops on the floor beside him. "Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac are getting married."

"No, seriously A.J."

"Seriously dork!"

"Shut up dufus! Just tell me why Mom's so happy. I think people in New York heard her scream."

A.J. rolls his eyes at his little brother. First Jimmy, make up your mind. It's not possible to shut up and answer your question at the same time. Besides, you don't even know where New York is."

"Do too!"

"Oh yeah? Where?

The kindergartner thinks about it for a second before answering, "New York is… not in Washington, DC.

"Good answer worm breath."

Jimmy playfully slugs his older brother in the arm "A-Jay!" he says theatrically, "Are you gonna tell me or not?"

"Jimmy have you got jelly for brains? I already told you. Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm are getting married."

Realizing that maybe his brother isn't kidding, Jimmy decides that there must be something else he misunderstood. "To each other?"

"No stupid! They're gonna marry the Power Rangers."

Jimmy stares at A.J. "You're serious? They're getting married?"

"Umm, yeah… That's what I'm saying."

"Aww man! You know what that means?"

"Yeah I do." A.J. confirms. The two boys look at each other in disgust. In unison, they groan. "Mom's gonna make us get dressed up!"

* * *

San Diego California

When Mac leaves his side to go and answer the knock at the front door, Harm quietly fills Bud and Harriett in on the wedding details they need to know about. He also makes certain that they are aware that Mac is not privy to all the details; lest they should let anything slip. "Harriet, I'm counting on you to be quieter than you have ever been. I really want this to go off without a hitch, so please; mum's the word."

The happy blonde giggles with nervous excitement. "Wild horses won't drag it from me Captain… I promise! What can we do to help?"

"I think all we really need you to do is show up. That's asking enough."

"I wouldn't say that. Sir; Harm, I really think Harriett and I can manage more than that." Bud sounds a little ill at ease through the phone line.

"I have no doubt you could if you were here Bud, but I'm asking you to fly six people nearly 3000 miles and I'm giving you ridiculously short notice. I might feel differently if four of those six people weren't children under the age of ten. If you can manage to get yourself, your wife, and all my godchildren to the appropriate place at the appropriate time without spilling the beans, that will be extraordinary. If it's okay with you, I'm going to pass your name and contact information on to my mom and Frank. They're helping me with all the planning and I may not always be available if you have questions."

"That's fine. We'll look forward to talking with them."

"And don't you worry about us." Harriett adds. "Assuming Bud can get leave, we're used to traveling around with four kids. Are you sure you're ready for us?" she asks; still giddy with excitement.

"I'm more than ready Harriett. Oh, and Bud… There is one other thing I need; if you're interested."

"Just name it."

"I need a best man."

Bud Roberts opens his mouth to speak, finds himself at a loss for words, regroups and answers. "You've got one Harm."

Hearing Mac approach, talking with the bearer of another familiar voice Harm says, "See you soon… And remember Harriett… Not even wild horses…"

Before Harriet can respond, Harm hands the phone to Mac and smiles at their guest.

He vaguely listens to Mac as she begins a conversation with Harriet. The sound of another squeal of enthusiasm escapes the handset as Harm drops a friendly arm around the shoulders of Jennifer Coates and ushers her out onto the back porch. Once the door is closed behind them he asks, "Why does she think you're here?"

"I told her I was bringing you copies of some old photographs I found of Mattie." Just to make good on the excuse, Jen reaches into her handbag and pulls out a small Manila envelope and hands it over.

"Did you have any time today to do what I asked when I called you this morning."

She nods. "I found him. At the moment he's in France. When I told him why I was calling, he said, and I quote, 'It's about damn time!"

"Sounds like him. Is he coming?"

"I told him that his presence was requested, and then I told him why."

"What'd he say?"

"Again I quote, 'Coates you tell Rabb I'll be there, even if I have to bum a ride in the back seat of an F15."

"Well, let's hope he doesn't have to go to that extreme… And the other thing?"

"He says it's not a problem. Even if he has to call in a favor or two, he doesn't mind playing currier."

Harm nods. "I'd just about decided that I was nuts to even attempt this, but it looks like we may just pull it off. Thanks Jen."

"Thanks for asking me. After the debacle of the Admiral's failed wedding plans, I never expected anyone to ask me to help with this sort of thing again."

"Jen, that wasn't your fault. If memory serves me correctly, the bride-to-be, in that case, was somewhat… capricious."

"Well, I don't think you'll have the problem. This morning before staff meeting, the Colonel was humming. She tries to hide it. Probably because she thinks it's not very Marine-like, but she's about as close to bubbly as I've ever seen a Marine get."

Harm smiles. "We better get back in there before she gets Harriett off the phone and comes looking for us. Will you join us for dinner?"

"I'd like that; if it's not an imposition."

"We're having spaghetti with marinara sauce. Do you want yours with or without dead animal?"


	9. Wednesday, August 29, 2007

**Crossing the Ocean **

**Chapter 40: Preparation and Migration Part One**

* * *

Author's note: Chapter 41 will be part two. I'm gonna go ahead and post this because I've got a tiny bit of research to do before I can continue. I also know that some of you are use to and appreciate a daily post, and I still got a ways to go.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters. If only I did, they'd be back on TV with the following script.

* * *

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

The day is a busy one for Mac. Joint Legal Services in San Diego is positively hopping with activity. With seven cases on the docket in one day, most of her staff is flowing in and out of the bullpen on their way to and from court. The morning staffing only added to the load. At noon she shares a quick and quiet lunch with Harm and Laura in one of the small conference rooms. Harm bought a salad for himself and the much favored dead animal on a bun from In & Out, a local burger joint, for Laura and Mac.

Harm notices that Mac is glad to see them but she's also preoccupied and only eats with half her normal enthusiasm. She leaves half her burger and most of her french fries untouched.

Mac notices that Harm too is preoccupied and in a hurry. Laura looks tired. In fact, after finishing her burger she asks him if they're going home next. Harm says no. Laura yawns. "Okay" she says. "You do wedding stuff. I'm taking in nap in the back seat. I'm sleepy!"

"I know sweetheart. Just one more trip; maybe two and then I promise we'll go home. After that, I'll even take a nap with you."

Mac feels a pang of guilt. They are running themselves ragged planning her wedding and she's at work having only a slightly busier than normal day. "I'll cook dinner tonight. I'll even go to the store on my way home. You two finish your running and then get some rest."

"I want meat loaf." Laura votes without her usual enthusiasm.

"No. Not tonight baby. You just ate nearly a third of a pound of beef on that burger. Tonight we're having whatever Harm wants for dinner."

Laura gives Mac an uncertain look. She's not exactly sure how to respond to this. At a loss, she looks at Harm curiously. Even Harm glances Mac's way with the look of surprise.

"What? We can go one night without beef, chicken, or pork on the table. It won't kill us Laura. Harm's been chauffeur, and chef, general all around handyman, and wedding planner extraordinaire since he got here. That's not much of vacation. He needs a night off. How about it Captain Rabb? What would you like for dinner?"

"Mac I'm fine." He smiles warily.

"That's not an answer to my question sailor."

Uninterested in protesting further, Harm leans back in his chair and drapes an arm over the back of Laura's chair. He gives it some thought and then raises an eyebrow. "Grilled shrimp?

"Done. Salad and baked potato; veggies?"

Harm nods with a bit of a smile.

"I'll be home at 1800; maybe 1830 depending on how crowded the store is." She stands, and begins clearing their trash off the table.

"Mac, you didn't eat much. You feeling alright? I'm not about to have a sick Marine on my hands; am I?"

"I'm fine, just a bit edgy." She admits. "In a little less than three days, we're supposed to be married." She says, as if the words are foreign on her tongue. "Feels weird."

Harm shoots her a look of concern. "Weird how? Are we talking weird good; or weird bad?"

Done with the cleanup, Mac locks the conference room door and walks over to perch on the edge of the table beside his chair opposite Laura. Leaning toward him, she offers him a sweet kiss. "Mostly weird good." She uses the pad of her thumb to wipe the faint trace of her lip gloss off his mouth. I just remember how much went into planning the last wedding I was supposed to appear at. I feel like I haven't done anything. It doesn't seem fair… and you do look tired Harm. You said only one or two more stops today. Stick to it. Go home, take a nap. If something doesn't get done, we'll just do without. It doesn't have to be perfect Harm. Don't kill yourself trying to make it the way."

"I want it to be perfect."

"Then all you have to do is show up. Anything beyond that… Well… It's just icing on the cake."

Smiling, he stands up and glances down at Laura. She wasn't kidding about being tired. Now that she's gotten food into her stomach, her eyelids are getting heavy. When he picks her up her arms find their way around his neck and her head finds his shoulder. He doubts that she will still be awake by the time he makes it to the parking lot. Using one arm to hold Laura, he picks up her walker with his free hand and drops another quick kiss on Mac's upturned mouth. "I'm not tired because I'm the one doing most of the planning. I'm tired, because somebody kept me up most of the night."

Mac walks with him to the door and opens it for him. "I'll let you sleep tonight." She assures him in a barely audible whisper that he answers with his own, "I didn't say I wanted that."

She walks as far as her office door and watches him leave her bullpen.

* * *

At the same moment that Mac returns to her desk in San Diego, Harmon Rabb's designated courier pulls to a stop outside the security gate at one of the world's most recognized addresses. The historian in the passenger seat beside him gives him a curious look. "Darling you could have told me we were coming here. I would have dressed a little nicer."

He glances briefly at the tailored ensemble she's wearing. "Rachel you look fine to me. Besides, if I'd told you we were coming here you would have changed clothes again I wanted to leave the hotel room before dark."

Only mildly miffed, she swats his arm playfully while using her right hand to remove identification from her handbag.

Once they are cleared for entry, they park, and are escorted directly to the office where they are expected. A brunette secretary of indeterminate age knocks on the office door, waits for an invitation, and then pokes her head in. "Sir, your 4:00 is here."

The tall Latino man half rises from his seat behind his expansive desk. His attention split between his secretary and a document he is reading, he pauses to look at his watch and then motions in an inviting manner. "He's right on time. Send him in… Oh, and Janie, coffee please; and make it strong."

Janie ducks out again with a polite "Yes sir." and leaves the door open for the visitors.

The historian smiles pleasantly when her companion motions her into the room ahead of him. Inside the office, the two men shake hands while the historian takes in their surroundings with equal parts awe and trepidation clearly visible in her eyes.

"Sir." The courier says.

"Let's not stand on ceremony, shall we? Please sit; make yourselves comfortable. He motions them to one of the two sofas in the room, and then nods in appreciation when the older man waits until he is seated in his own chair before taking the one offered.

After a moment of the usual silence, their host leans toward them in an engaging way as he says, "I'm aware of the reason for your visit. I received a most unusual request from my predecessor on Monday. He informed me that he owes you a personal favor and that you've come to pick up a most important gift for a very special bride. He also told me that I should give you the very best we have to offer. While I'm pleased to do it, I'm afraid that what I know about the quality of such a gift would fit inside a thimble. Therefore, I've tasked my wife to see that the request is carried out. She's much more knowledgeable about these things than I. She should arrive momentarily. While we wait, can I offer you a cup of coffee?"

* * *

At roughly the same moment, in Germany an attractive sandy haired male in his early forties boards an airplane headed for the States. He locates his seat and offers a smile to the pretty brunette stowing her carry-on in the overhead bin. She's in civvies but he can tell from her posture that most likely, she too, is military. He waits for her to take her seat and smiles when he realizes she will be seated next to him.

A small powder blue gift bag is currently in his seat. She moves it with the slightest of smiles and stows it under her own seat. "Oh sorry." She offers. "Didn't mean to take your spot."

"Nah, it's okay. I know what it's like trying to get settled in one of these things. I'd rather be in the cockpit." He tells her while taking his now empty seat."

She laughs. "Me too!"

Surprised, he is quiet for a second and then decides to play a hunch. "That bag; it wouldn't happen to have a wedding gift in it; would it?"

She nods. "A friend of mine is getting married… But how did you know that was his gift."

His smile is a tiny bit overconfident. "A friend of mine is getting married."

She smiles and chews on the inside of her lower lip. "The Mackenzie-Rabb wedding?"

"That's the one… If it happens." He smiles again.

"What do you mean by that? She laughs.

"Harm sure took his time. Frankly, I don't know why Mac said yes. She could do better." He declares in a tone and says he's half joking, half serious, and completely comfortable making such an announcement.

The woman in the seat beside him gives him an odd look. "I can't tell if you're the Captain's best friend or his arch nemesis."

A little of both. We went to Annapolis togeth… Hey wait! Did you say Captain?"

"Yeah I did. Obviously you haven't talked your best friend in a while."

"I've been out of touch for a couple years."

She nods. "That's about how long he's been Captain. He's London's FJA."

The man whistles. "Well I'll be damned. That son of a… Oh sorry Ma'am. I never thought he'd make it to Captain. I figured Chegwidden would have to kill him first."

"You know the Colonel as well?"

"Mac, yeah. She and I spent a couple of days together in the desert once" he says in a suggestive tone. "Hell of a woman." He grins.

His companion shakes her head, and her finger too. "Now you're telling stories."

Pretending to be offended, he raises his right hand." Hand to God. I swear. I spent two days in the desert with Sarah Mackenzie."

"Maybe, but your attitude and your devilish smile would seem to allude that there was something personal between the two of you." She shakes her head again.

"You don't think that's possible?"

"Plainly put? Not a chance in hell!"

"Oh, and why not?"

"First, you aren't her type." She raises an eyebrow and looks him over. "And second, forgive me, but you couldn't handle Colonel, Sarah Mackenzie."

He laughs loudly. "You might be right about that, but don't tell Harm." As the plane begins to move, he sticks out his hand. "Jack Keeter."

She accepts the hand he offers and shakes it firmly. "I don't have to tell Harm that. He already knows it. "Elizabeth Hawkes."

* * *

Author's note: There is the tiniest bit of an implied crossover in this chapter. There will also be one in the wedding chapter. What's the rule? Can I just note that crossover in the author's notes for the chapter since the whole story is not a crossover, or do I need to list the entire work as a crossover? Advice please.


	10. Thursday & Friday August 30 & 31 2007

**Crossing the Ocean **

**Chapter 41: Preparation and Migration Part Two**

* * *

Author's note: Steamboat,I think it's more a case of "wrong man" than runaway bride. Something tells me, we don't have anything to worry about.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters. If only I did, they'd be back on TV with the following script.

* * *

Thursday, August 30, 2007

1652 hours

Jack Keeter and Elizabeth Hawkes exit the Airport; both of them stiff and tired after 26 hours of travel.

Hawkes is in a noticeably better mood though. She slept better on the plane than he did. "Are you staying at the hotel, or do you have other plans?"

"Hotel for me."

"Wanna take the shuttle, or share a cab?"

"Not a bad idea! I'll split the cab fare with you to avoid the crowds." Squinting against the late August sun, he grumbles. "Which one of them decided to get married here of all places; and at the end of August?

"Don't be such a grouch! A girl only gets a perfect wedding once. The Colonel told me that she's not sure exactly what he's up to, but he promised her the perfect wedding. That's why she pulled so many strings to get us here… as a thank you. It's my understanding that he doesn't know we're going to be there."

"Well, if he thinks she's going to have the perfect wedding here, I hope he can take the ring back to the jeweler."

She takes his elbow and gently pulls him to the curb when a cab comes to a stop. Shaking her head she inquires, "Tell me again, why you're his best friend?"

"Sorry. All I need is a hot shower and several hours of rack time. I promise I'll be in a better mood before the wedding."

"I certainly hope so!' She says wryly as the cabdriver hops out of the sedan and offers to stow their bags in the trunk."

Moments later, as the cab pulls into traffic, she takes her cell phone from her handbag and types out a quick text message.

_Col._

_I've arrived. Bumped into J.K. on the flight out of Germany. We'll be there._

_~Skates_

Before hitting SEND, Per Petty Officer Coates' instructions, she reads the message twice to be sure she gave nothing away.

* * *

Right around the same time that Mac, who is busy at her desk, receives the text message from Skates there's a knock at her front door a few miles away.

Harm opens the door and greets his mother with a light kiss on the cheek.

"Is she ready?" Trish asks full of vitality.

Harm doesn't have to answer. Laura does it for him. "I've been ready all day Miss Trish! I packed my suitcase before breakfast. We have lunch with Aunt Mac. I already said goodbye to her. I got my pillow, and my art pencils, but Harm wouldn't let me put my dress in my suitcase!"

"Well I'm glad he didn't. A dress like that doesn't belong in suitcase." She drops a light kiss on the tip of the little girl's nose.

"Darling, if you'll put her things in the car, I'll get your uniform. Mac's things are already in the car. I picked up her dress this morning and she's already packed a small bag for me to take along " Before Trish is through speaking, she's already in the little bedroom off the kitchen. Having been there several times over the last few days, Trish breezes through the house, knowing just where to find what she's looking for.

By the time Harm has Laura's overnight bag and walker in the trunk of his mother's car, and her dress neatly hung on a garment hook in the back seat, Trish is trotting down the front walk with his garment bag and overnight kit. While she stows them, Harm wrestles with Laura's car seat; getting it from the backseat of his car to his mother's. When he's done, he scoops an impatiently waiting Laura up and buckles her in. "Be good, don't let Mom and Frank stay up too late, and have fun! We'll see you tomorrow night."

She giggles and returns his hug.

"If you need anything, you just tell Mom or Frank and they'll call me."

"Harm, I'll be fine!" she says with certainty that causes Trish to chuckle.

"Yeah Harm! It's not like I've never spent the night with a kid. She can't possibly get into any more trouble than you use to!"

"I know she'll be fine Mom." he whispers after he closes the car door. "I just wanted to make sure she knew that."

"Ah, okay."She says, her mood shifting from one of levity, to one of affection for and pride in the man standing before her. She touches his face. "You're a good dad, and you'll make a good husband too."

He takes hold of the hand against his cheek and holds it in both of his; just for a moment. "I hope she thinks so too."

"Laura or Mac?"

He'd been referring to Mac, but he thinks about it for a second and shrugs. "Both."

"I'm pretty sure they already know that. All you have to do now is make sure you don't let them forget."

Letting go of her hand, he steps to the rear of the car. Before he closes the still open trunk, he asks, "You're sure you've got everything in here?" He gazes in, looking for anything that's obviously missing."

"I'm as sure as I can be. If I've forgotten anything, you just have to bring it with you."

"Call if you think of anything."

"We will."

"She'll be hungry in about an hour, if not before then."

"I brought snacks."

He walks with her around to the driver's side door.

She starts to slide in behind the wheel but then stops. "Have you had time to shop for rings?"

"We're going shopping tomorrow morning."

"Harm, I took the dress by her office this morning just to make sure the alterations were good. Mac thinks she's going to work tomorrow morning; at least that's what I gather from the conversation we had."

He grins. "Yeah I know. Haven't told her yet. Securing her leave without her knowledge was a bit tricky but we managed it."

"We?"

"Jennifer Coates and I."

"Remind me to hug that girl! She helped you look after a daughter, and helped you plan your wedding too. Frank and I couldn't have managed it all without her."

She falls silent for a moment and Harm can see her choosing her words as emotions reveal themselves in her eyes. He waits another beat before gently asking, "What Mom?"

She smiles at him and reaches into the pocket of her white linen slacks. Drawing out a small black velvet box, she turns his hand palm up and places it there; gently curling his fingers around it. "Give Sarah this."

Unfurling his fingers, Harm stares at the box for a long moment before carefully opening it. He knows what's nestled inside it, but the sight of the gold band and its modest diamond setting still brings moisture to his eyes. "You sure?"

She nods. "It's time somebody should wear it again; time for new initials to be inscribed on it."

Smiling, he lifts the ring from its box and turns it so he can see the dual inscription on the inside of the band.

_AR + SH and HR + PJ _

Anyone else would have to squint to read minuscule etchings that he committed to memory long ago and they bring a lump to his throat. With no small effort, he manages to speak. "I don't know Mom." he says a bit thickly. "You really think we can squeeze in one more set of initials?"

"I think there's just room enough for one more set. Whoever wears it after that will have to be content with the initials of their ancestors."

Harm returns the ring to the safety of its box and then pockets the box before wrapping his mother in a fierce hug. He holds her tightly for a long moment before kissing her cheek one last time. "Go." he says holding her elbow as she slides in behind the wheel. "You'll want to be there before dark." He closes the door with his hands resting against the open window while she fastens her seat belt. "Drive safe. Call when you get there." He touches the rear window gently in response to Laura's smile. "I love you both."

She pats his hand and fires the engine.

He steps back and then stands in the driveway watching until he can no longer see them.

* * *

Friday, August 31, 2007

1041 HRS

Bud Robert steps up to the front desk at the Radisson hotel. "Good morning." he smiles at the clerk with long hair the color of ginger. "Reservation for Roberts. We're here for the Mackenzie-Rabb wedding. I was told a block of rooms has been reserved. I believe, on the eighth floor."

She smiles pleasantly and begins taping away at her keyboard. "Good morning Mr. Roberts. Just one moment please Sir.

While he waits, Bud listens to Harriett, who is a few steps behind him. "Jimmy, hold A.J.'s hand and don't you two boys dare to wander off. You stand right here beside me. Nicky, Jenny…" Whatever Harriett was going to say is forgotten and replaced by one of her happy squeals. "Commander Turner, Varese!"

No sooner than she can hug Varese, Harriet squeals again when a young voice calls out from across the lobby. "Harriet?"

Bud turns around and watches his happy wife clumsily try a hug two people at the same time; Varese and a girl - no a young lady, he mentally corrects himself. "Chloe? Is that you?" Bud's jaw drops and he stammers. "My God. You grew up!"

Laughing, Chloe Madison steps forward and offers him a friendly hug. "Yeah Commander, I think that sort of happens to everyone." she says with the same spunk he remembers. She turns back to Harriett, and takes both of her hands. "I can't believe they're finally getting married! I have been waiting for this since I was ten!"


	11. Friday, August 31, 2007

**Chapter 42: Friday**

* * *

Author's note: Carramor, patience please, the wedding will happen sooner than you know.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters. If only I did, they'd be back on TV with the following script.

* * *

Friday, August 31, 2007

1041 HRS

They walk out of the jewelry store hand in hand with a matching set of plain gold bands; not too narrow and not too wide. With her small hands, Mac hadn't wanted a wide band in the current fashion; concerned it would not sit well on her hand and therefore, would look out of place. However, the wider bands looked better on Harm's larger hand. They visited two shops and found similar rings in both. When he asked if she wanted to visit a third, she shook her head, and in the end, they compromised on something that would suit them both.

Happy with the choice they made, she sighs as she settles into the passenger seat of her Vette

Climbing in, he shuts the driver's side door before turning to her with a smile. "Where to now?"

"I vote for home and bed. I'm sleepy."

"Still? He asks with mild concern."

"You're the one who kept me up most of the night squid. No more naps for you in the middle of the day, because now I need one. Besides, tonight is date night. I still don't know where you're taking me. I don't even know what to wear. So, I might need a nap and a bubble bath first."

"You've still got time for both, if that's what you want. Wear whatever you'd like. We're leaving the house at 1600.

She squints at him, wrinkling her brow. "Date night begins at 1600? Isn't that kind of early?"

"Yeah." He grins. "But it won't end early.

She shoots him another look. "Harm, there's an awful lot of room for interpretation in the statement 'wear whatever you'd like." She tries to raise an eyebrow seductively but the effect is somewhat pre-empted when she yawns and then laughs at herself for it. "Care to narrow it down a bit? Are we going out in public?"

"You said you wanted too; at least a few days ago, and the answer is… sort of."

"I still do." she turns in her seat to face him and her eyes dance with excitement despite her sleepy smile. "Harm, what kind of answer is sort of? Either we're going out, or we're not. "

"The only one you're going to get, for now?" He informs her with a grin.

In resignation, she shakes her head while covering her mouth to conceal another yawn. "I can't believe you let me get up this morning and get half dressed before you told me I was on leave Harm."

He chuckles. "I was going to tell you last night, but well… I forgot."

"You forgot? Harm, exactly how does one forget securing leave for his fiancée without her knowledge? It can't have been that easy."

"No, but it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be either. And, it's not my fault! I put dinner in the oven. I went to take a shower. I was going to get out of the shower and set the table. My plan was, we were going to have dinner with a little conversation and somewhere in there I was going to mention it. However, my plan got shot all to hell a short while later when I turned around and found a naked Marine stepping into my shower!"

Nudging him gently with an elbow, she'd teases. "You burnt my dinner too."

"The oven burned your dinner; not me. Damn thing needs an automatic shutoff like a toaster oven; especially if you plan on interrupting my showers on a regular basis."

"I might. I kinda liked that!" she announces happily.

Starting the car's engine, Harm laughs. "I kinda could tell you liked that… Put your seatbelt on."

* * *

As Harm and Mac head for home, Trish answers the knock at the door of room 8O2 at the Radisson and smiles at the pretty young woman standing before her clad in a vibrant green and blue swimsuit cover and matching sandals.

"Mrs. Burnett?"

"And you must be Chloe."

The girl nods. "Yes Ma'am."

"I'm glad you made it." As she's standing alone in the hallway, Trish asks, "Did you travel alone?"

"I did. Grandma's vertigo was acting up. She really wasn't in the mood for a cross-country flight and my boyfriend didn't want to come to a wedding for two people he's never met. He's kind of shy."

Trish nods. "Is your room okay?"

"It's fine. Actually it's great, really nice. Thank you. I came by because Harriett told me that Laura is with you. Mac talks about her all the time. I've talked to her on the phone once or twice, but we've never actually met."

"I see, please come in dear." Trish steps back from the door to allow Chloe to pass and calls over her shoulder, "Laura, you have a visitor."

When Chloe enters, the dark-haired little girl with Mac eyes is sitting cross legged on one of the two queen size beds in the room. All dishes have been removed from the breakfast tray over her lap, and she doodles with an art pencil with one hand and plays with a toy car with the other. The toy is a miniature replica of a green VW Bug with brightly colored flowers painted on its body. It has pull-back action and she drags it to one corner of the tray, winding its wheels and then lets it go; watching it zoom from one corner of the tray to the other, where it ricochets off the raised corner of the tray and changes direction before racing across her drawing paper. An episode of Scooby-Doo plays on the room's large television five feet from the end of her bed. In response to Trish's comment, she looks up at Chloe and cocks her head to one side; studying her before she offers a tentative smile. "Hello, who are you?"

Chloe steps into the narrow space between the two beds and takes a closer look at Laura's drawing. "I'm Chloe, and I like your artwork."

the little girl's face lights up. "I'm Laura. Aunt Mac is gonna be so happy you're here… And I like your necklace." she adds spying Chloe's string of big clunky bright green beads that sparkle.

Chloe glances down at her costume jewelry. Planting one knee on the edge of the bed; she takes off the necklace and gently slips it over Laura's head. "Then it's yours."

"Really? You mean it? I can keep it?"

"Sure, I mean it. How's Candy?"

"She's good. I miss her though. Harm said she didn't need to come with us even though she can. He said she might not like going to the wedding. I don't know why she wouldn't like it, but he promised he'd take good care of her for me."

"Well, if Harm made you a promise; you've got nothing to worry about. She'll be one well cared for dog."

"How's your horse?"

Drum's fine too. He definitely would not have liked coming to the wedding."

Laura giggles. "Course not silly! You can't put a horse on an airplane all the way from Vermont!"

Chloe giggles too. "I bet you my fellow travelers would not have liked that at all. Hey Laura, can you swim kiddo?"

Laura nods emphatically. "Aunt Mac paid for them, and she made me take swimming lessons before she would let me come to her house because she lives at the beach. Not just the beginner classes for babies. She made me take the intermediate classes, and when new one starts; she's going to sign me up for the advanced class. She says swimming in the ocean isn't the same as swimming in a pool."

"It's not. In the ocean, you have to be strong enough to handle the waves and the currents."

"I can swim good." Laura nods and then adds with a trace of annoyance in her young voice. "But she still makes me wear a life jacket when I go in the boat to go fishing with my friend Liam."

"Aww well, sometimes she makes me do things I don't like too. But you know she's just trying to keep you safe, right?"

"Yeah I know. But it still sucks."

"Did you bring a swimsuit with you?"

"Uh huh. Harm told me to. I brought my pink and orange one."

"You wanna go down to the pool with me?"

"Yeah!" already excited, Laura sets her makeshift drawing tray aside. As she scoots off the bed she looks at Trish with big eyes. "Can I… Please."

Trish laughs at her enthusiasm. "Well, since you said please… but only if you wait for Frank and I. We'll get ready and come with you.

Grinning ear to ear, Laura grabs her walker. "I'm gonna go get my suit on!"

Twenty minutes later, the four of them get off the elevator in the lobby only to have Trish head back to the room because she forgot the sun block. Mere seconds after the elevator doors close behind her, Frank realizes that he has the room key.

"Girls, you go on to the pool. We'll be right there shortly. He pushes the call button for the elevator and watches the two girls walk happily away.

They need to cross the lobby in search of a side exit to the pool but halfway across four rowdy teenage boys who are laughing loudly, causing a disturbance, and only paying attention to themselves, barrel into both Chloe and Laura. Closer to their size, Chloe manages to remain upright but a sudden outcry tells her that Laura wasn't so lucky.

"Ow!" Laura wails pushing her toppled walker away as Chloe shoves against the boy who bumped into her and complains. "Hey, watch where you're going jerk!"

In the confusion, one of the other boys trips on Laura's overturned walker, and goes crashing face first into the polished marble floor. He shrieks in pain as blood spurts from his nose. One of his friends sinks to the floor beside him laughing, "Oh dude! You tripped on a little kid's walker!" In response, the boy groans and rolls onto his back as blood gushes through the fingers gently holding the wounded appendage in the middle of his face.

Laura sits up and examines the scrape on her knee before telling the boy with the bloody nose. "When you fall, you're supposed to put your hands in front of your face Dumbo; you know, so you don't hurt your head!"

The boy sounds funny with his messed up nose when he calls her a brat, but before Laura can retort that at least she's not the klutz with the bloody nose, a tall bald man who is carrying an ice chest approaches quickly and his voice roars "Damn hooligans!"

Laura watches the man quickly hand the ice chest over to his companion, a tall blond woman in a pretty pink suit, before he kneels beside Laura. Gruffly, he shoves the boy with the bloody nose from his back onto his side so he won't choke on the blood. Moving the boy's hand momentarily, he glances at the nose to make certain the damage isn't severe. Satisfied, he roughly puts the hand back in it's former position before he bellows. "What's wrong with you morons? Didn't your mother's teach you how to behave in public?"

Before Laura can even think to move away from him, he picks her up and settles her on his knee. "Are you okay darlin'?" he inquires with a smile that doesn't match his big loud voice.

For a second or two Laura just stares at him, not sure what to make of him. He's big and he's loud, but his eyes say he's friendly.

She gently touches his face at the same moment that she feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns to see Chloe kneeling beside them. "It's okay Laura. He's a friend. He scared me the first time I met him too." Laura watches Chloe's smile at the man. "Hello Admiral."

Laura watches the one called Admiral stare at Chloe for a second before, with a smile that hints at both shock and delight in the young woman before him, he asks, "Miss. Madison?"

"Yes Sir. Good to see you again. Glad you're here." She smiles back at him, grateful he didn't follow the question with 'You grew up!' or some similar exclamation. In the last few hours she's become familiar with both the look and the declaration. Most of the people here haven't seen her since she was thirteen but still looked ten. Pleased, she glances at Laura again. "Laura, this is Admiral Chegwidden. He use to be your aunt's commanding officer."

In response, Laura studies him quietly. He, in turn, looks from Laura, to the walker, and then back to Chloe again. "Can she talk?"

Chloe laughs. "Yes, she can talk. You just scared her with your angry grizzly bear impersonation!"

"Hey!" Laura finds her voice. "I'm not scared! My knee hurts. That boy!" she points. "He made me fall down… And anyway, Aunt Mac says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers!" she bobs her chin in a 'so there' fashion for emphasis.

A.J. Chegwidden laughs and then glares at the boys. "Go on! Get out of here, all of you, and next time watch where the hell you're going!"

One of the boys helps his buddy with the bloody nose to his feet. The four of them disappear quickly around a corner.

He turns his attention back to Laura. "Aunt Mac is right. It's not good to talk to strangers." He offers her his hand in formal introduction. "You can call me A.J. It's a little easier to say than Chegwidden."

Laura takes his big hand in her small one and gives it a good shake. "You can call me Laura." she says with spunk.

"Are you okay Laura? How bad does your knee hurt?" He asks looking at the scrape and deciding that it's minor, as it's barely trickling blood.

She nods. "I'm okay. It's hardly bleeding." She announces with the dramatic sigh, "I've done worse to myself."

Chuckling at her exuberance, He uprights her walker and tenderly sets her on her feet.

"Are you coming to the wedding?" she wants to know.

"Yeah I am. But if you talk to Aunt Mac, don't tell her that okay. It'll just be our secret."

She smiles at him. "It's okay. I won't tell. Me and Chloe are going swimming. You wanna come?"

"Maybe I'll come down in a little while. Rachel and I have got to get this ice chest to a freezer. It's got something really important in it."

Laura looks at the woman called Rachel and the ice chest. She whispers in the Admiral's ear. "I know what's in there too. Harm told me all his secrets."

The Admiral throws back his head and laughter booms out of him. "I certainly hope he didn't tell you _all_ his secrets." Rising once more to his feet, he declares, "I'm sure some of them are not fit for little girls' ears."

* * *

At precisely 1300, Mac opens her eyes and slides out from beneath the quilt. Quickly and quietly she showers and dresses in jeans and a summer sweater then she returns to the bed. Sitting down beside the sleeping man she loves, she is extremely careful not to disturb him as she sets the alarm in the watch on his wrist to wake him in an hour.

In the kitchen, she leaves a note for him that she sticks to the refrigerator with a magnet.

_Hey Flyboy,_

_Got some things to take care of. I'll be back at 1600 on the dot, if not before, promise. So, be ready. I am!_

_~Ninja Girl_

In the alcove by the front door she takes her handbag and car keys from the top of the credenza and slips quietly out of the house.

* * *

**Chapter 43: Friday Afternoon**

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Author's note: Over 500 reviews, and 99% of them good! You guys rock!

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

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Friday, August 31, 2007

1352 HRS

Unpleased but certainly not surprised by her mother's reaction to her personally delivered invitation to her wedding, Mac leaves the trailer. She knew it was pointless to come here, but Harm thought it was important and she had promised him she would. Her mother's one request as she crossed the threshold at the front door was, "Take lots of pictures…please."

Mac hadn't even thought about a wedding photographer. She had no clue as to whether or not Harm had. A bit more stung by her mother's refusal to attend than she wants to admit, she doesn't bother to tell her this. She simply nods and says, "We'll do the best we can."

Feeling the way she always feels when leaving her mother, she fires the vette's engine, eager to get away. She has an appointment to keep, but part of her is tempted to simply go back home and climb back into bed with Harm. She leaves the trailer park. At the first red light she comes to she must decide which way to go. While waiting for it to change, she reaches for her handbag in the passenger seat. With one hand on the wheel, she fumbles with the clasp and then extracts the fine linen envelope from The Healing Touch Day Spa.

The place has the ritziest clientele in town and is far beyond Mac's budget, but yesterday Trish had come by her office with the dress to make sure the alterations would do. As she was leaving, she turned back as if she'd forgotten something and handed the envelope to Mac. With equal parts uncertainty and curiosity, Mac had raised an eyebrow.

Trish's parting words were. "A gift; from Frank and I. Use it for date night. Your appointment is at two." She had smiled and drummed her manicured fingernails against the door frame of Mac's office. She was gone before Mac could respond. She was gone before Mac even knew what was in the envelope. When she opened it and saw the gift certificate inside, she took an involuntary step backwards and sat down hard on the corner of her desk; knocking over her pencil holder and spilling its contents on the floor.

Still sitting at the traffic light, the driver behind her angrily honking because the light has gone green; Mac makes the decision. Waving apologetically to the unhappy driver, she heads for the spa. Her own mother may not be thrilled with her wedding plans, but if Trish's generosity is any indication, at least she can take comfort in knowing that her mother-in-law to be doesn't feel the same apathy.

An hour and thirty minutes after she walks into the spa she walks out again, feeling wickedly overindulgent and loving it. After a massage, a haircut and style, a manicure and pedicure, and makeup, she is relaxed enough to almost purr. As she slides in behind the wheel again, she catches sight of a dress on display in the window of the shop next to the spa. Her interest piqued, she checks her internal clock…1532. She can spare only twelve minutes. Getting out of the car again, she hurries into the shop. Delighted to find the dress on sale, she also quickly selects shoes to match and changes her clothes in the shop's fitting room. At 1543 Mac steps out of the shop in a dress reminiscent of the white one Marilyn Monroe wore when her image was forever captured and immortalized. The one distinct difference is that the dress Mac wears is Christmas red. Back in the corvette, she tosses the shopping bag that contains her jeans, sweater, and running shoes into the passenger seat and she's off.

At 1557 she pulls into her driveway and the sight of Harm sitting on the front porch step in black slacks and a charcoal gray dress shirt; unbuttoned at the collar steals her breath for an impossibly long 3 seconds. He is gorgeous, and what's more, he's ready; on time. She's stunned. She opens her car door as he steps her way. "Cutting it kind of close, aren't you Marine? Harm checks his watch.

Without answering, Mac steps out of the car.

"I hope you're not going to tell me that you'll only be a minute. You just want to run in and change your…" Harm looks up from his watch. "Whoa!" His smile, his eyes, they say everything the simple utterance does not. They say it all.

She smiles back at him and spins around once for his benefit then approaches slowly. Teasing, she says, "No, I wasn't planning on changing, but if you want me to…" she tries to move passed him as if she's heading for the front door.

"Uh uh!" he wraps both arms around her waist and hauls her up against him. "Please don't change!" he kisses one of her bare shoulders. He kisses the other shoulder, and then her neck.

"Okay, okay" she laughs. "I won't change. But are we still going… or are we going inside." She smiles wickedly.

For a moment, she leans back in his arms and watches him do battle with temptation. At length, he lets her out of his embrace and points to his rented SUV. "Let's go."

He holds the passenger door open for her. She starts to step into the car. Offering him a quick kiss and standing so close that he can feel her breath on his neck, she whispers, "You sure… because you look utterly irresistible yourself."

He groans with carnal frustration. "Get in the car before I change my mind Sarah."

She smiles and slides into the seat.

* * *

**Chapter 44: The Drive**

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Author's Note: Okay I have to rib one of you just a little bit. What follows is a portion of review that I received, but before I begin, let me assure you all that no offense was taken. I just thought it was funny! This one made me laugh out loud last night and spit my sip of wine at the computer screen.

- Okay, time for a reality check. 11 minutes for a woman (any woman) to go in a store and buy a dress and matching shoes? Totally unrealistic! LOL! Looking forward to your next chapter! -

Oh dear friend, do you have any idea how wrong you can be when you say 'any woman'? You really shouldn't make such general statements about women. This one hates shopping for clothes. If I absolutely must, or on the very rare occasion that I see something that I actually want .– Well let's just say when it comes to fashion, I shop with a 'take no prisoners' approach. I see it, I need it, or occasionally want it, I go in, I get it… And I get out! Eleven minutes is more than enough for this woman. Although there may not be many like me; I'll bet good money I'm not the only one. Given that Mac once stripped, showered, dressed, and was in Chegwidden's office in just around the same amount of time. I figure she can probably buy a dress and shoes in the same amount of time; when motivated as she was prior to date night.

If you're in a hurry, the one place you absolutely cannot take this woman shopping is the hardware store! I love that place as much as the typical fashion diva loves JC Penny, Khole's or The Gap. My husband is amused greatly by this fact. He will ask, "Honey, you wanna go dress shopping?" I'll scowl, "You've bumped your head haven't you!" "Honey, you wanna go to dinner?" "Meh, okay, if you want to." "Hey babe, I'm going to the hardware store. Wanna come?" "I'll race you to the truck! Bring the credit card!" God that place makes me happy!

Anyway, 'Big grin' Thanks for the review. I enjoyed it; even if I nearly did choke on a glass of Riesling. Now, on with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

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Friday, August 31, 2007

1642 HRS

Harm looks at his watch. Twenty Nine minutes; it's been twenty nine minutes since she last had anything to say. He's not sure whether or not this should make him nervous. "You okay?"

"Umm hmm." She hums.

Hindered by her seatbelt, she turns slightly in her seat to face him. She looks content enough. Actually, she looks almost placid… peaceful. The only thing that keeps her from getting all the way there is the tell-tale hint of eagerness in her eyes. Somehow, he thought by now she'd been prodding him for information about their destination. He knows she will eventually. He just hadn't expected her to hold out this long. So far, the only hint of impatience was when she shot him a curious look when they hit Interstate 8 about 15 miles back.

He turns on the radio.

Another 4 minutes go by before she says, "You know Harm, if this drive is going to be much longer we should have brought the Vette. It's a gorgeous day."

"Well, that was my plan. When you didn't show up by 1545 I decided to load the SUV."

"Oh. I would've been there if I hadn't seen this dress in the window of a shop. You wouldn't give me a clue about what to wear. You said, and I quote, 'Wear whatever you'd like.' I saw this, and I liked it. So, I had to run in and grab it. I would've gone with something in my closet if I'd known you needed to load the vehicle."

"I have no regrets about you buying that dress Mac; and I never will." He tells her with a sideways glance. The view of her long legs thrills him. "How was the spa?"

She sighs happily." I want to move into that place; live there fulltime."

He chuckles. "That good huh?"

She murmurs affirmatively. "Your mother's going to spoil me. It's a good thing I can't afford that place. If I could you'd never see m… Hey wait a minute! I didn't tell you I went to a spa. How did you know that?"

"Well, you're all prettied up." He tries, hoping a compliment will mollify her curiosity "I'm assuming you didn't do that before you left the house; not with me sleeping. You would've woken me."

"Uh uh Harm. I'm not buying that. You knew." She accuses with a chuckle.

With a sigh and a nod he resigns the charade. "Mom told me about the spa Tuesday night, when I went to get Laura but she was busy teaching Frank how to play chess." Harm grins at the memory. "Mom asked me if you'd use the gift certificate if she got it. I guessed you would. I knew you had an appointment, but I figured you'd wake me before you left. It's startled me when the alarm in my wristwatch woke me."

I didn't want to wake you."

"It's okay. Actually, it worked out good. It gave me the chance to take care of a last minute thing without thinking up a cover story first."

"You wouldn't have to do that if you just told me what you're up to."

"It's more fun this way. At least, I think it will be."

"You think. You're not sure?"

"Well, I was sure, at least until you got so quiet. I thought you'd be twisting my arm by now Mac; demanding details."

"Oh, I want to know. I really do… It's just… you seem to be having such a good time. I guess I decided to let you have it; for a little while. Besides, I like this part."

"What; riding as a passenger while I drive you to an unknown location. That doesn't sound like you Mac."

"I'm alone with you, with a relative amount of shelter from the world outside and we're going somewhere. That's what life is supposed to be about. Two people going somewhere. If only the rest of my life could be this simple; this perfect. Right now, I almost don't care what comes next. Almost. Of course, if this drive continues for much longer without some kind of explanation, I may hold you down and force you to eat dead animal!"

"Ahh, there's the jarhead I know and love. Hang on just a little bit longer Mac. You'll start to put the pieces together."

"You expect me to put a puzzle together tonight?"

"Not exactly; but you'll start to. It was either - drive you, like this, and let the pieces fall into place, or drug you, knock you unconscious, and kidnap you. Only trouble with that was, eventually you'd wake up, and I'd have one pissed Marine on my hands. I decided that was probably not the way to go."

"Smart Flyboy; good Flyboy."

Harm chuckles. "Do I get a reward now?"

"A reward?"

"Yeah, you talk to Laura's dog in the same tone of voice right before you give her a dog biscuit."

"Hmph, I really don't think you'd like a Milk Bone Harm."

He wrinkles his nose. "No thank you. But I would like a kiss"

"Tell me where you're taking me, and maybe you'll get one"

Grinning, Harm shakes his head, "I knew your patience wasn't last much longer."

"Harm…please. This has been fun, but I really wanna know now. Where are we going?" her happiness the only thing that keeps her from whining.

"We're going to dinner."

Instead of kissing him, she lightly smacks his shoulder.

They fall into a nearly comfortable silence; disturbed only by her growing impatience. They listen to the radio for awhile. They talk about Laura for awhile. Although neither one of them mentions the choice not to, they seem to have an unspoken agreement not to talk about work.

Although they never see the plane, they see the exhaust trail from one, and a moment later they spot a skydiver seconds before he chute opens; unfurling red and gold against the pale blue cloudless sky.

"There's a skydiving school a couple of miles from here. He must be in the drop zone." Mac says.

"I've never understood why people want to do that, I mean for leisure. I'd rather fly the plane than jump out of it."

"That's because you've been hardwired to just fly the plane; no matter what. Whatever goes wrong up there, as long as you've got air under your wings, you're alive. Just fly the plane. Jumping out of the plane is what you do when there's nothing else you can do; when there's no other alternative except death and even then, you probably try a few seconds longer than you should. You eject and as you and your chute descend, and the plane slams into the side of a hill becoming a giant fireball, part of you is still thinking; I just wanted to fly the plane. I should've tried harder. In your thick head, needing a parachute means you failed at something."

Harm doesn't know whether to laugh or be offended."Mac, do you know what a fully loaded F15 costs?"

"Yeah, I do. I also know that in that moment you aren't thinking about dollar signs."

"That's true enough. So, you're in favor of skydiving… For sport?"

"God no! But unlike you, it's not the thought of abandoning a perfectly good aircraft that bothers me. Free falling can be sort of pleasant. It's the sudden stop at the end that I object to. I'm supposed to jump out of an airplane, and trust my life to a few yards of nylon fabric and cords tethered to D-rings that are clipped to my body? Something goes wrong, and there's a very hard, wet, squishy thud when I hit the ground as bones break and organs rupture. Bye-bye Mac. No thank you! I only do that when I have to. But not everyone agrees with you and me. Some people think it's worth the risk. That's all I meant."

She falls quiet again and stays that way for awhile. She watches their progress. As mile markers tic by she occasionally shoots him a curious look. A bit farther, and she gets fidgety. She can't hold still in the seat. If she's not playing with the seat controls, she's uncrossing and re-crossing her legs or fidgeting with the headrest, or the air conditioner vents

"Ah Harm… We are supposed to get married at 10:00 tomorrow morning."

"You aren't going to miss anything; I promise." is his only reply.

"How much farther?"

He points to a road sign. They cross the state line. As they head into Yuma she gets excited. Bouncing and sitting up straighter in the seat, she alternates between staring hard at him for long moments, and staring out the window, happily watching desert scenery pass by. Her behavior is not unlike that of a nervous lap dog, prancing in the seat, eager to get out of the car. Finally, at length, she smiles. It's a soft, sweet, genuinely happy smile that he rarely sees. His arm is resting against the console between the two seats and she places her left hand in his right and goes completely still. She knows where they're going.

The rest of their drive is peaceful and quiet.

Approaching Red Rock Mesa she gets excited again, but it's a quiet excitement that radiates from her without the nervous movement that had unsettled her earlier in their drive.

When a helicopter passes overhead Harm checks his watch and Mac grins. Moments later, they pull off the road to find the helicopter has landed and is waiting for them at the base of the mesa.

The very moment Harm's foot hits the break Mac's door is open and she is out of the car. Getting out himself, he chuckles at her indecision. She immediately starts for the helicopter then stops, looks around, comes back to the driver's side and takes his hand. She walks with him to the rear of the vehicle as the helicopter's pilot climbs out. Harm opens the rear door of the SUV. Taking a black backpack from inside the cargo hold and slinging a strap over one shoulder, he hands Mac a small AM\FM radio and then picks up a of large picnic hamper. Stepping back, he slams the rear door and takes Mac's waiting free hand in his. After only two steps, she lets go of his hand and wraps her arm around his waist. As they approach the helicopter, she whispers "Thank you" in his ear.

The helicopter pilot, a short stout man in his sixties and wearing coveralls, smiles affably and shouts "Going up?" over the air whopping and whine of the rotor.

Harm gives him a thumbs-up sign as Mac lets go of him to tend to her skirt. Harm briefly shakes the man's hand before stowing his gear and then offers Mac a hand as she climbs aboard. Once inside, with the doors closed, Mac leans forward from the first row of rear seats and shakes the man's hand.

"Jake Preston… And you're Sarah?"

"I am; and thanks for the lift."

"No trouble. Interesting place for a date though. I don't know too many girls that would have a yen to come here."

Mac shrugs and smiles at him. "Most people wouldn't want to, but this place is in my blood."

Jake Preston nods without the curious or odd expression Mac would've expected. She thinks he might understand.

It takes them only moments to rise to the top of Red Rock Mesa and set down again. Before stepping out of the helicopter Preston reaches back and hands Harm a handheld shortwave radio receiver. "I'll be back in time. Just give a yell if you need anything. I'll be around."

Harm nods and then disembarks before turning and offering Mac his hand again. When she is standing beside him, he once again grabs the backpack and Mac reaches for the basket; stacking the little radio they brought along on top of it.

"Ugh, Harm, what have you got in here; as seven course feast?" she shouts over the noise of the helicopter blades

"Pretty close." Harm chuckles.

They step a safe distance away and watch the helicopter rise. It hovers briefly as Preston looks out the window and exchanges a salute with Harm, and then it is gone.

As he turns to smile at her in the early evening sunlight he drapes an arm around her. "C'mon. Let's find a spot."

* * *

Author's note: I'm dictating as fast as I can. You'll probably have another post later tonight but I know some of you are probably chomping at the bit because I didn't post last night. "Big smile" So, here's part of it. I'm taking a quick break for fresh cup of tea because my voice is the little dry, and maybe a sandwich. But I will be working on more tonight; rest assured.

* * *

**Chapter 45: The Date**

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Author's Note: Okay guys, it's confession time. I goofed, majorly. When I decided where this story was going to end up, I kept thinking that in late August the sun sets at about 8:15 PM; and it does; where I live. Only trouble is, I don't live in Yuma Arizona. However, I've written too much of the story to go back and change it all now. This afternoon I checked the sunrise and sunset times for Yuma Arizona on the exact date listed below, Friday, August 31, 2007. At 1847 when Mac and Harm arrived at Red Rock Mesa, they would've been a grand total of 16 minutes away from sunset. My apologies. For the sake of the story please suspend reality and just assume the sun is going to set an hour and 1/2 after their arrival. One of my readers mentioned Murphy to me this afternoon. Well you were right Steamboat, good old Murphy did make his appearance; but let's not make Harm and Mac suffer for it. Thanks Y'all

Now, on with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

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Friday, August 31, 2007

1847 HRS

Mac picks their spot, less than 2 feet from the westward edge of the mesa. She sets down the picnic hamper and remains standing; her hands resting on her hips as she stares out at a view so magnificent only God could create it.

Harm lowers the backpack to the ground and removes a blanket from the largest of the zippered compartments; spreading it for them. He sits an opens the basket of food and as he begins to remove some of it he glances up at her standing there lost in the view. For a moment he is silent, not wishing to disturb her. When the basket is half empty, its contents spread across the blanket except for a place for her beside him, he says "I bought sunscreen too; if you want some for your shoulders."

"You thought of everything; didn't you?"

"I hope so."

She smiles down at him as he picks up the AM/FM radio; searching for a station. The variety of food catches her attention. "Harm! If your watch woke you at 1400 there's no way you had time to do all this."

"Mom helped. We did most of it yesterday while you were at work. I left it at her house so you wouldn't see it and get suspicious. Most of it's meant to be eaten cold though. I wasn't sure about trying to start a fire up here. We've got crudités, a cold relish, and some tortilla chips, some fresh fruit, pea salad, some homemade sour dough bread, soft cheeses and even some chicken salad. It's all safe; I promise. It was in the freezer five minutes before it was in the car and there are ice packs in the bottom of the hamper. We've got water, and a bottle of cider. I think Mom even stuck a few candles in here. Ah, and the corkscrew." He says triumphantly; finding it tucked inside one of the wine glasses nestled in the compartment for such things.

"Your mom is amazing!" she declares, settling down beside him. "I couldn't even manage to talk mine into coming to our wedding. Yours helps plan the wedding, gets me ready for a date, and even helps make the food for the date. Oh, and just so you know, if we ever do this again, fires are okay. How do you think Uncle Matt and I survived up here for a month?"

"Oh. That makes sense. I didn't even think about it. I guess dinner's going to be a little low-key then."

Mac shakes her head before taking a long moment to kiss him. "Dinner is perfect!" she breathes when they part.

"You haven't even tasted it."

"Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter if it's awful. Doesn't matter if I leave here starving. This is perfect."

"You sure? I know you said you wanted to go some place public. This isn't exactly a restaurant filled with people."

"We can go to a restaurant anytime. You only get one first date." She adds quietly, "Thank you for not listening to me."

Mac slips out of her shoes and nudges them aside while the radio plays soft instrumental music, and Harm begins preparing plates.

"Harm please tell me that's not actual china."

"Afraid it is. Mom said, 'if it gets broken, then it gets broken.' She said I wasn't allowed to feed you dinner on paper plates. I told her you wouldn't care, but she absolutely insisted."

Mac giggles. "Okay, but please tell me it's not… I don't know… Your great grandmother's china, or anything like that."

"No. This isn't the good china set. She assured me."

Mac breathes easier and sips from a bottle of water.

"I wanted to bring some fresh strawberries along, but the ones at the market were not impressive. So I brought oranges from the tree in Mom's backyard instead."

Her face lights up." Fresh oranges; that haven't been exposed to all those flavor-robbing chemicals that farmers spray on them before shipping them to stores?"

He nods.

"That's dessert." She declares happily. "Unless you have that in the basket too."

"Dessert comes later… I hope."

She studies him, thinking that perhaps he's referring to other, more intimate things, but his expression is devoid of explicit desire, at least for the moment. "What's that mean?" She decides to ask.

His only response is to hand her a plate filled with a healthy taste of everything the basket has to offer. "Here, eat your chicken salad."

"K, fine." She says, taking the plate happily. "Don't tell me. I don't care. Not now."

Side by side, with their thighs touching, they stare out over the desert sky as they eat their meal slowly and in near silence with the exception of an occasional comment on the food or the view. Harm's one question is in regard to a comment she made moments before.

"You mentioned your mother. You did invite her?"

Mac puts down her fork and nods quietly as she tucks her head and swallows a bite of food. "Today; before the spa." Lifting her gaze, she meets his eyes. With a shrug, she shakes her head. "Sorry. I know you wanted her to be there. I know you wanted her to surprise me. I tried. No such luck."

He watches her play with a piece of bread until he puts his arm around her and tucks her in against his chest. "Mac, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have put yourself through it."

She shrugs again, her shoulder making contact just below his. "It was important to you. That makes it worthwhile even though we didn't get the answer you wanted. The answer I wanted, I guess. And anyway, I promised you I would ask. So I did. At least now she won't be able to claim that she didn't come because she wasn't invited. She did ask for pictures though. I told her we'd do the best we could. Don't suppose you thought to hire somebody?"

"It's in the bag."

"Really? You got a photographer?"

"Mac, don't sound so shocked. I like pictures. I'd like to have a few of our wedding day… You know, 50 years from now."

"Fifty years from now! God Harm, do you know how old we'll be 50 years from now?"

He chuckles. "A couple of half-deaf, half-blind, recycled teenagers."

When she arches an eyebrow and shoots him a look of uncertainty, he laughs. "That's something my grandmother used to say – that senior citizens were just recycle teenagers. You would've liked her. She would've liked you."

"My gram would've liked you too Harm." She hugs him close, uncertain what else to say.

While they finish eating, a couple of hawks play on outstretched wings in the sky; soaring high then diving and chasing after one another. Harm watches Mac watch them. She puts down her plate, and leans back against her palms and gets lost in simple beauty of their aerial acrobatics. While she watches them, he peels an orange and splits it into sections. The fruit's sweet scent fills the air and she occasionally glances his way but always returns her eyes to the sky and the view beyond Red Rock Mesa He drapes a linen napkin over her lap before holding a slice of orange to her lips.

"Here." He whispers and she bites down gently then laughs, trying to keep her mouth closed, when the sweet juice dribbles down her chin.

Picking up the napkin, she dabs at her mouth while she chews. When she can, she says, "That's a good orange; really good. But when they're that good they're also messy; and sticky." She adds, still dabbing.

"Here, let me." Pushing aside the napkin, he kisses her and then gently uses his tongue to lick away any trace of the sweet sticky nectar from the orange. The kiss becomes heated and threatens to burn out of control until, breathlessly, Mac gently pushes away. At first, Harm doesn't understand. He thinks something is wrong until Mac picks up a slice of orange and offers to feed it to him. He bites hungrily and then lets her subject him to equal treatment. They continue in this fashion, taking turns, until the orange is gone and their libidos are a whisper away from demanding satisfaction.

Mac pouts when she realizes the last bite of orange is gone. Then, offering him a smile she whispers, "You want to peel another one?"

"God yes!" he answers, his voice husky with desire, but he grits his teeth and makes a 'tsk' sound as he looks at his watch. "I'm afraid we can't though. Sorry, maybe we should have started with the oranges."

A waltz begins to play on the radio. He stands up quickly and pulls her to her feet. Caught by surprise, she laughs. "Why can't we? Date over? Are you meeting another girl?" she teases.

He chuckles wryly and holds her as close as he dares given their present conditions. "No, the date's not over, and what other girl? There are no other girls in my world. Dance with me Sarah."

She complies wordlessly and falls into step with him letting him lead her through the music. The fingertips of the hand resting on his shoulder gently caress his neck. "Harm, if the date's not over, why can't we have another orange?"

"Date's not over yet… but we might be getting close and there are some other things I need to do before it is. Whenever the date ends, we can always take the oranges with us."

"Oh, okay." she whispers, pleased by the thought. "What other things do you need to do?" she asks curiously.

He smiles down at her. "God, but you're impatient!"

"You're just now figuring this out… After more than eleven years?"

In time with the music, he spins her around. "No, I've known it since day one, but sometimes you like to remind me."

She falls silent, because it's what he wants, and moves with him until the last notes of the waltz are played. When it ends she turns to face the view once more. He stands close, his arm around her.

"Do we need to pack up? When's Mr. Preston coming back for us? The sun's going to set in about thirty-five; maybe forty minutes"

"I know." He whispers and something in his voice causes her to look his way. She finds that he's holding a black velvet ring box in the palm of his left hand."

She offers him a curious smile and he opens the box. "You should've had this Sunday when I proposed. If I had planned that as well as I planned tonight, you might have. Dad gave it to Mom, and before that it belonged to Grandma Sarah. It even has their initials engraved in it." He turns it so that the rays of the late sunlight cast a gentle glow on the three sets of initials that circle the inside of the band.

AR +SH, HR+PJ, and HR2+SM

She watches him without a sound as he slips his family's engagement ring onto her finger. Transfixed for a moment she stares at the simple ring with its delicate diamond setting. It fits. It's irrational for this to make her feel so good, but it does. She wraps her arms around his neck, hugs him tightly, and then kisses him. The kiss is little more than a gentle caress before he's brushing tears off her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"Will it do?" he wants to know.

She's already nodding, speechlessly before he can finish saying, "I know it's not new, or the latest trend."

She places the fingertips of her right hand against his lips. "Shh; hush. It's perfect. It's priceless."

He brushes away more tears and she finds herself returning the favor before they turn their eyes to the breathtaking view once more. After a long moment of silence he catches her by surprise with an unexpected question, asked so quietly that at first she's not sure she heard him correctly.

"Think you can change clothes before the sun sets?"

When her look of confusion changes to one of incredulity he raises an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you're tired of the dress already. I thought you liked it."

With his hands resting gently on her hips he shakes his head. "I don't like it. I love it. But, I was just thinking. Here we are… engaged… plus, you went out and got all prettied up this afternoon, and we're up here… Standing on top of a rock that's thousands of years old. Even time hasn't managed to wear it away." Her breath catches as she recognizes her own words repeated back to her. "Can you think of a better place to get married? I can't."

For one moment, he's never seen her look so happy, and the next moment the look crumbles and she's smacking his shoulder hard with the heel of her hand. "Harm, are you nuts? Have you lost your mind? Don't tell me the altitude's getting to you. We can't get married tonight!"

"Oh? Why can't we?" He challenges.

"Well for starters, we're the only two people up here!"

He shrugs. "I can fix that."

She goes on as if she hadn't heard him. "And second, twenty one people are coming to my house tomorrow morning to watch us get married on the beach. Remember?"

He gives her that one of a kind smile. "Really? Are you sure about that Mac?"

She squints at him. "That's what you told me! Saturday morning; 1000 HRS."

"What if I lied?"

In response to the scowl on her face, he holds up his hands in a defensive posture. "Only about the date and time; not about getting married."

The scowl fades into a worried smile "But Harm; all our friends."

He holds up his finger in the universal 'wait one moment' gesture and crosses the blanket to pick up the shortwave radio receiver Jake Preston left them with.

Mac stands with her hands on her hips, her back to a sky that promises a glorious sunset, watching him as if she thinks he's gone mad.

He holds the button down to transmit, and winks at her. "Frank, you got everybody down there yet?"

A second ticks by, then two, three and Mac shakes her head, but after the fourth second there's a moment of static over the radio. "We're all here Harm."

"Okay. Hang on guys, your ride up will be here shortly." Harm changes frequencies. "Jake?"

Preston answers immediately. "You ready?"

"Affirmative. Everyone's here. We're ready and waiting."

"I'm inbound. Be there in less than two."

Harm puts down the radio. Unzips a pocket in the backpack and extracts a pair of binoculars. He crooks his finger; silently asking her to follow as he walks toward the opposite side of the mesa.

At the eastern facing edge, he looks through the binoculars for a moment and then hands them to her.

Mac looks through, and then bounces once on the balls of her feet at the sight of three large dark blue vans that bear the logo of the Radisson hotel in Yuma.

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**Chapter 46: The Guests The Goats & The Gift Part One**

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Author's Note: Me and the muse need food, be back later with more.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters.

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Friday, August 31, 2007

1950 HRS

Standing at the top of Red Rock Mesa with binoculars, Mac looks down at friends and family climbing out of the comfort of air conditioned luxury vans. When Jake Preston approaches from the east in his Sikorsky S76 and sets down for his first load of passengers, Mac hangs the binoculars around her neck and throws her arms around Harm. With Her head on his shoulder she whispers, her voice thick with emotion, "You're insane, you're certifiable; and I love you. Thank you. You shouldn't have done this; but thank you."

He holds her every bit as tightly as she holds him. "Why shouldn't I have?"

"Harm, it'll take you years to pay for this. You didn't have put yourself into debt."

"I didn't. I was going to, but Frank offered to pick up the tab. He said to consider it a wedding present."

"Harm… It's too much."

He rubs her back. "Yeah, I told him you'd feel that way. That was when Mom started telling me about all her friends who have adult children who have gotten married recently and what they spent on the weddings. According to Mom, this is one inexpensive wedding. They're friends with Preston; so they got a break on the charter and that was the most expensive part. Chrysler reserves a block of hotel rooms at the Radisson for corporate functions. There was no dress to buy; not to mention clothing for the wedding party. All the girls started asking about wedding colors. I had no clue, so I referred them to Mom. She told them that Laura picked our wedding colors for us, yellows and greens; and classy but informal. We'll see what they came up with."

"Oh Harm, I don't care what they're wearing."

"I know."

Several yards away, the helicopter touches down. Tucked into Harm's embrace, Mac waits impatiently to see who will arrive first. Jake Preston climbs out and opens the rear doors. With his back to them, he listens to the people inside. There seems to be a discussion taking place for several long seconds and then he nods and takes the hand of a woman who momentarily is shielded from view on the other side of him until she gently shoos him out of the way. When he steps aside Chloe Masson can be seen kneeling just inside. Most of her face is hidden behind a large digital Nikon camera, and another camera is on a strap around her neck. Above the noise of the helicopter rotor, Harm and Mac cannot hear the camera's whine and click, but Chloe snaps a quick half dozen shots of the two of them locked in each other's arms before she rises, lifts the hem of her dress and bounds gracefully out of the luxury aircraft on nimble young legs and feet. On solid ground, she smiles brilliantly and motions 'just one minute.' She turns, and walking backwards quickly, she snaps a lightning fast round of photos as Jen steps out and turns back to take Laura's walker and then Laura from Trish's waiting arms. After Trish comes Judge Wayne Dubose and two women Mac does not recognize. She assumes one is the judge's wife, Maggie. These two women take turns assisting each other with getting two garment bags and a couple of overnight cases out as well. All of them are dressed to the nines either in neutral colors, or veritable shades of brilliant green and yellow.

As soon as the last passenger is out Jake Preston mouths 'Be right back.' Harm nods and waves while Chloe finally gets a chance to release her camera. At which point she promptly throws her arms around Mac who eagerly returns the embrace; both of them laughing happily. They release each other only so Mac can hug Trish as well, but she addresses Chloe. "I knew you had a thing for that photo journalism class you're taking, but I didn't expect this!"

"That was last semester. I moved on to the advanced class. When Harm called and asked if I could do this, I said heck yeah! Sorry for the delay with the hug, but I wanted to get a few shots of people arriving. I mean, how often is there a helicopter at a wedding? It'll definitely make for a conversation piece; even years from now." Chloe goes up on tiptoe before she throws her arms around Harm, and kisses his cheek with a spunky "Hey Harm." then she shoots Mac an aggrieved look. "Darn it! He's still thirteen inches taller than me! Teasing Harm, she scowls at him and demands to know, "Why can't you shrink some?"

For a moment, everyone laughs while Harm shrugs and accepts Chloe's good-natured exasperation.

"Why can't you grow some." he tosses back in fun as Mac steals a moment to whisper, "Thank you." in Trish's ear. Barely holding in tears, she wants to say more but Jennifer Coates is standing by smiling happily and patiently with Laura in her arms.

Laura, on the other hand, may be happy but she is not so patient. Having not seen her aunt for more than 24 hours she's definitely ready now. "Aunt Mac, you're getting married!" she declares as if this is not yet known; causing more laughter from the group.

Mac feels Trish's hand on her shoulder; a gentle squeeze as she takes Laura into her arms and offers Jen a hug. Deciding that she'll catch a moment when she can to speak more freely with Trish, Mac turns in time to catch sight of the woman stepping into her son's embrace as she answers Laura. "Yeah baby. I sort of figured that out!" She hugs the girl zealously. "And you look beautiful!"

"I didn't even get dirty…yet."

"Well, see if you can hold out just a little bit longer." Mac notices a gift wrapped package in the girl's arms but before she acknowledges it, she shakes the judge's hand. "Thank you for coming."

"Are you kidding? The pleasure's all mine. I've never been part of a top secret wedding before."

Mac chuckles, as he introduces his wife in a sweet genteel way. "This is my Maggie."

Mac shakes the plump pretty redhead's hand as she offers congratulations with a Texas drawl that is somewhat softer and sweeter than her husband's; but recognizable nonetheless. "Trish and I decided it might be best to leave the wedding cake at the hotel. I don't think it would have fared well in that flying contraption. You two can cut the cake after we get back to the hotel."

"Sounds like maybe he really did think of everything."Though Mac is talking to Maggie Dubose she throws a smile Harm's way. He shrugs and says "We'll see." before Mac turns and offers her hand to the one person remaining. "Sarah Mackenzie."

"Judge Dana Kerrigan, Wayne is a friend of mine from law school days. He called and told me he needed a little help."

"Oh?" Mac raises an eyebrow.

"Yes. You two obtained a license to be married in California. This isn't California… But no worries, I'm here to take care of all of that. All I need is a couple of signatures, but we don't have to deal with that right now; just some time before midnight."

"Thank you so much for coming all this way!"

"What all this way? I live less than thirty miles from here, and I'm having a blast. I've never ridden in the helicopter before! Not to mention, I haven't seen Wayne this excited since he passed the bar!"

Mac laughs. Moving to stand between Harm and his mother she says, "Well thank you anyway. I'm glad you're having a good time."

Harm drapes an arm around her as she offers Laura a smile. "Hey baby, what's in this pretty package you're carrying?"

Laura's little face lights up. "It's a wedding present! Harm told me you needed these to get married. He said I could pick them out though. Here! Open it!"

"I will in little while. You're supposed to wait until after the wedding to open the presents."

"No! Aunt Mac, you have to open this one now! It's important!"

Laura's eyes plead as she holds up the package. Mac gives her a gentle squeeze and offers Harm a raised eyebrow."

"She's right. You should open it."

Looking back and forth between the two of them Mac purses her lips for a moment but then shrugs and passes Laura over to Harm with a quirky, "Okay, I'll open it. Here, you hold this."

Laura wraps her arms around Harm's neck while giggling over being referred to as 'this.'

Mac gives the package a gentle shake, noticing that it's the perfect size of a shoe box. She determines from the lack of noise that whatever is inside, it isn't a pair of shoes. She gives Harm another curious look and he shrugs. She smiles at the group of people around her and she rips pretty yellow paper open and finds, not to her surprise, a shoe box. Tucking the shredded wrapping paper under one arm, she sets the box in Trish's upturned hands and lifts the lid. Nestled inside plain white tissue paper, she finds two objects that cause her to squint in confusion.

Noticing this look, Trish chuckles. "Well, so much for my hope that you might be able to explain this Mac. Harm and Laura brought it over to the house. I wrapped it. He wouldn't explain this to me. I was hoping you could."

Mac turns her befuddled look to Harm. "Explain please Flyboy. What's the joke?"

Harm grins but in a way that suggests he's just been wounded. "You don't remember?"

Laughing, Mac shakes her head. "Sorry, afraid not."

"You…me… Along with Renee and Brumby… On the double date from hell. We went to see the Roches but they never showed."

"I remember the date… Just not the reason for the gift."

"Really, aww c'mon. You remember."

Mac searches her memory and shakes her head apologetically.

"Well, I remember! You were lamenting Mic's outlandish wedding plans... Saying that you would be happier with far less." he raises an eyebrow.

Mac squints for a moment and then looks of the items in the box and bursts out laughing.

The faces of the people around them all bear mystified expressions as Mac removes two small stuffed toy goats from inside the box and holds them up for display before cradling them to her chest. She then hands them to Laura and throws her arms around Harm. "You're insane!" she tells him for the second time in moments. "I can't believe you remember that!" Harm, I was joking… Well… sort of."

Harm wraps his free arm around her. "You sort of weren't joking."

"And you knew that; even than!" she says quietly; caught somewhere between laughter and tears.

"Yeah; I knew. Preston wouldn't let me put real goats in his helicopter. He didn't like that idea at all. I can't imagine why." Harm jokes. "I hope those will do instead."

Laughing, Mac thumps his shoulder with the heel of her palm. "Those will do fine! You didn't really ask him to bring goats up here!"

"I asked him what he thought of goats. He informed it that they are nasty troublesome creatures who will eat anything that's not nailed down. I figured persuading him to allow a couple on board would require an act of Congress; and I didn't have time to make that happen." Harm adds the last bit as if he's serious.

Still embracing him, Mac looks at the perplexed faces around them and explains. "On a double date once with our respective boyfriend and girlfriend, I was complaining about the rather lavish plans my former fiancé had for our wedding. I told everyone listening that instead of all the fuss, I'd rather get married on a hillside with goats in attendance. Part of me was joking. Part of me wasn't. Mic, my then fiancé and Renee, his girlfriend; they just laughed it off. Harm, on the other hand, shot me that one of a kind look of his. Even wrapped in a joke, he had sense enough to recognize the truth when he heard it."

"And now here you are." Maggie Dubose comments happily. "Though I'm not sure this giant rock out in the middle of the desert counts as a hillside."

"No, but this giant rock is better than any hillside anywhere."

They all turn and watch as the helicopter sets down once more and Jake Preston climbs out yet again to unload his passengers. Harriett and her three boys climb out followed by Sturgis and Varese while Chloe returns to snapping pictures.

Harriet is as effervescent as ever! Squealing with delight she hugs and kisses both Mac and Harm as the three young boys clamor around Harm vying for their share of attention from their uncle. Harm speaks to each of them in turn before he and Mac both greet Sturgis and Varese. Immediately after that Mac turns to Harriett.

"Harriett, where are Bud and Jenny."

"They're still down there. Bud's trying to convince her. Jenny's a little scared of the helicopter."

Concern washes over Mac as A.J. declares "Yeah… Jenny's a big baby!"

Mac kneels beside him. "A.J. that's not very nice."

"Well who ever heard of being afraid of a helicopter?" He asks, making it clear that he thinks riding in a helicopter to his godparents' wedding was a grand adventure."

"Don't you remember when you were scared to ride your bicycle without the training wheels?"

A.J. nods a little sheepishly. "How did you know about that Aunt Mac?"

"Your mom sent me a video. You know what, your dad stayed with you the whole time until you could do it by yourself without being scared, and nobody called you a big baby."

"Uh huh. Did too!"

"Who did?"

Not wishing to be the only one in trouble, A.J. decides to share the misery and points an accusing finger at his little brother Jimmy.

Harriet chimes in. "Yes. And Jimmy got in trouble then too. Aunt Mac is right son, it's not nice to make fun of your sister. Not everybody likes to fly A.J. It can be a little scary for some of us."

Mac looks up at Harm. "Stop Preston. We'll just have to go down."

Harm looks shocked. Not that she offered, but that she offered without hesitation.

"We can't traumatize her Harm. We can't force her before she is ready, and you can't get married without Bud. It wouldn't be right."

Harm waves to Jack Preston; signaling for the man to stay the instant before he lifts off. He opens his door and again, Harm signals 'wait'. Returning to the blanket he and Mac had shared earlier, he picks up the radio receiver. Returning to them, he calls down, "Hey Bud. You copy?"

It's Frank's voice that responds, "Hang on Harm."

An instant later Bud replies. "I'm here Harm. Well me and Jenny." then he says, "Here sweetie, talk to Uncle Harm." after another 3 seconds they hear Bud again. "Sorry, cat's got her tongue. She's being bashful, but she's right here. She can hear you. She just doesn't want to talk right now."

Harm grins. "Jenny, don't you want to come up here to the wedding."

"Honey, you have to talk. Uncle Harm can't see you shaking your head."

"No!" The two and a 1/2 year old girl finally says; loud and clear. Don't wanna go up. Don't wanna fall down!"

"Aww. You're scared huh. Well, that's OK. Everybody gets a little scared the first time they fly. I did." Harm says as if he sharing a secret. "But I've flown lots of times, and it's not so scary. Well, except for when I miss Mattie. Hey, I have an idea. What if I fly down there to you? If I come down there, will you come up with me?"

There's a long silence over the radio and finally they hear Bud say again. "Sweetie, you have to talk. Uncle Harm can't see you."

"Okay." comes the timid reply.

"I'll be right down Jenny."

Harm drops the toy goats into the basket on the front of Laura's walker and quickly sets her on her feet. "Stay away from the edge okay sweetheart?" without waiting for a reply, he drops a quick kiss on Mac's temple and sprints for the helicopter, calling over his shoulder "I'll be right back."

They watch him climb into the empty seat up front beside Jake Preston. The two men talk for a few seconds and then lift off.

* * *

**Chapter 47: The Guests The Goats & The Gift Part Two**

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Author's Note: Steamboat, I don't know where one might go about finding a Blue Moon cheeseburger, but that along with hand cut french fries, and a double thick strawberry milkshake sure sounds yummy.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters. Now, on with the story!

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Friday, August 31, 2007

1956 HRS

"You think he can convince her?" Varese addresses her question to the group at large.

Mac laughs. "Harm can convince any female to fly with him. I still fly with him, and the very first time I did; I got shot! Trust me, if there's anybody here who has reason not to fly with Harm, it's yours truly, and yet, I do it every chance I get. She'll be up here before you know it."

Far below them, Harm steps out of the helicopter. He spots his friend and his frightened goddaughter right away, but before he can reach them he spots two unexpected friendly faces and smiles; shaking his head. Aw Mac, he thinks, recalling that her numbers for the guest list didn't quite match up with his whenever she talked about it. He had assumed that she had been adding the two of them to the mix. On his way to Bud and Jenny, he stops only long enough to wrap Skates and warm hug as he thumps Keeter on the shoulder.

"I would ask you what you two are doing here, but I suspect a certain Marine had something to do with it."

They both nod, and Keeter adds, "That's affirmative."

"I looked for you man! I couldn't find you; thought you dropped off the face of the Earth!"

"Brother, I was in a stinking hell hole that you don't even want to know about. I don't know what kind of favors your bride-to-be had to call in to get me pulled out of there, but I'll say this much for her, she's still got great timing."

"And you." he smiles at Skates.

"Yeah. I have to say I was a little surprised by the invitation but see, the last time she invited you to a wedding you almost didn't make it; in the worst possible sense. Apparently, she still feels grateful I was there. Maybe she thinks I'm your good luck charm."

Harm flashes his smile. "She always will be grateful Skates. That goes for both of us; and if I did have a good luck charm, you'd be it."

He and Bud shake hands and then hug like men, thumping each other on the back, before he scoops the blonde toddler with eyes as bright and blue as her mother's up into his arms. "Hi Jenny. Why don't you come with me while I go say hello."

Harm offers the Admiral his hand. "It's good to see you Sir."

"Good to see you too Harm" he answers gruffly, shaking the hand that's offered. "But if I'm going to attend your wedding like a member of the family, I think you better call me A.J."

"Fair enough, were you able to get it?"

A.J. Chegwidden gestures toward an ice chest sitting nearby on the ground. I got it… and then some."

"Thank you very much for that A.J."

Harm looks to the attractive middle-aged blonde standing next to A.J. and the older man supplies an introduction. "Harmon Rabb, this is Rachel Mc Graille"

"Nice to meet you Ma'am" he says warmly.

"Likewise, but all you military folks are so well-mannered. Don't get me wrong, I like it but I prefer you call me Rachel."

"Rachel, it is then." he gestures toward the helicopter. "Shall we fly?" he says with a smile.

As they approach the helicopter with its loud rotor little Jenny's arms and legs tighten around him. Harm drops a welcoming hand on Frank's shoulder and he motions for him to sit in the front with Jake Preston as he climbs into the back and takes the two seats next to Bud. When Harm lowers Jenny into a seat she immediately scampers for her father's lap and Harm kneels in the narrow aisle, folding in on himself to make room as the other passengers board.

"Hey big girl, you have to sit in your own seat, so we can buckle you in, but Daddy's going to stay right there, I'm going to sit right here, and you're going to sit in the middle. It's only going to take just a minute, and we aren't going anywhere until you say it's okay, deal?"

While Harm waits for her to answer he takes his seat and fastens his own belt. "See, just like the seat in the car." He pats the empty leather seat in the middle.

When the doors slam shut, she jumps but the interior is noticeably quieter with the doors closed and this seems to comfort her some. She looks around the small space at the people she came here with and then looks at Harm.

"Go fly?"

"When you say it's okay, but you have to put on a seatbelt first.

Jenny tips her little chin up placing the crown of her head against the wall of her father's chest so she can look at him upside down from her spot in his lap. "Seatbelt?"

"That's right monkey; seatbelt. Just like in the car, but you can hold my hand and I betcha Uncle Harm's got a hand you can hold too."

Harm offers her his right hand, and she chooses to slide into the seat between he and Bud.

"There now. If you get scared, you just squeeze my hand as hard as you can." Harm tells her while Bud works her seatbelt into place and then his own.

"We go up now?"

"If you're ready."

"We not fall down?"

"Don't you worry! Mr. Jake up there flies real good, and if he has any trouble, I'll jump up and go help him." Harm splays his big hand across her small chest and pats her gently.

"She thinks about this for a moment, before she nods. "Okay. We go up now." she holds two of Bud's fingers in one small hand and two of Harm's in the other and squeezes her eyes shut as tightly as she can.

Chuckling, Harm holds his left index finger up in the air and makes a quick circle, indicating to Jake Preston that they're ready for lift off.

Moments later when they set down again, Jenny opens her eyes and strains against her seatbelt to look out the window over her father's shoulder as Preston begins to power down the helicopter.

Smiling, Harm points, "See Jenny, there's Aunt Mac."

She glances out the window very quickly but immediately turns her attention back to Harm. "It's over; already?"

"Yep. It's over. We're here. Wanna come with me; so I can go get married?"

Jenny nods and fumbles with the buckle on her seatbelt until he undoes it for her. Harm scoops her up again and when the doors open she covers her ears with her hands in response to the decelerating rotor until they are out and a safe distance away. As Harm joins the group, Chloe snaps more pictures and Jenny reaches for her mother.

"We go up, we not fall down." She tells Harriett happily.

As she takes Jenny into her arms, Harriett and everyone else laughs heartily before she says, "That's really good. If you had fallen down, your Aunt Mac would've kicked somebody's six from here all the way to Antarctica!"

"You got that right!" Mac declares as, walking her way, Harm points an accusatory finger at her.

"You are one sneaky Marine. How in the world did you manage to get Skates and Keeter here?"

"I located them, I contacted them, I asked them to come, and then, I passed their information on to Jen." she shrugs as if it were child's play. "I knew she was your co-conspirator. Don't worry; she managed it all without revealing a thing."

"How many favors did you have to cash in or promise to get this done?"

"Does it really matter?" Mac asks, winding an arm around his waist as she watches the last of their friends disembark.

Mac goes into another round of hugs and warm greetings with Frank, Bud, Keeter and Skates. When that is done she turns to Harm. "I guess we better get dressed now."

"Not quite yet." he says quietly; moving to stand behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders."

"Why not… Oh Harm, no more surprises okay?"

Without comment, he points toward the helicopter as Preston removes a large ice chest, sets it on the ground, and then offers his hand to a women Mac does not recognize. She is confused until the woman's escort steps lithely from the helicopter as if he's done it 10,000 times before.

She straightens her spine, willing at least some Marine bearing to remain within. Biting her lower lip and covering her mouth with both hands, and then dropping them to her sides, a single silent tear falls before she can demand otherwise. Mac waits for him to come to her.

Taking the unfamiliar woman's hand in his; he approaches slowly. "Hope you don't mind an irascible old Seal dropping in like this, but I heard you would getting married. A few years back you bestowed upon me the privilege of giving the bride away. I never got to carry out the honor. Captain Rabb here thought I might like the chance to make good on that; if you're agreeable Sarah."

Hopelessly unable to form words, she nods vehemently; her eyes shining she stands stiffly before him.

With a wide smile he beckons quietly; the fingers of his right hand moving in a slight 'come here' gesture.

With the permission she needs, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek whispering, "Thank you Admiral."

"No need to thank me… Just go through with it this time!"

Letting him go, she laughs. "Yes Sir. That won't be a problem Sir!"

"Glad to hear it... Mac, this is Rachel Mc Graille. Rachel, Colonel Sarah Mackenzie."

The two women shake hands and smile at each other.

"Am I supposed to call you Sarah or Mac."

I prefer Mac, but whichever you're comfortable with this fine; I'll answer to either. I heard the Admiral was in France."

"Yes, we were, but he got on the first available plane when Captain Rabb called."

Touched, she offers the Admiral another warm smile. "Thank you for coming. I hope his call didn't interrupt anything important."

"Nothing we can't return to." Rachel assures her as Chegwidden interjects, "Planes leave every day. We got on one to get here. We can just as easily get on another."

"Well, if you'll excuse us, Harm and I need to change."

"I was going to say." Chegwidden begins archly. "Mac that dress is lovely and it's wearing you… but, call me old fashioned, I just don't think red is an appropriate color for a bride."

The crowd of bystanders begins to chuckle, as Mac gives a slight nod. "Yes Sir. This is a situation I intend to remedy in very short order."

"Well, before you do, walk this way. I have something for you."

Mac takes the arm that's offered her. Walking with him, she objects. "Sir, you didn't have to get me anything. Just your being here is enough."

"Nonsense! Who the hell shows up to a wedding without a gift? But I'm afraid this one isn't from me."

"Oh?"

"No. Your groom made a request. I'm just his courier."

Mac glances back at Harm, who is following closely. His only response is to smile.

"No more Harm! This is too much already."

Harm steps ahead of them to the ice chest. Kneeling and opening it, he comments dryly. "Well, A.J. did go out of his way just to bring it to you, but if you don't want it, we'll just pitch it over the edge,." Harm removes a sealed white plastic box and takes a step backward toward the edge of the mesa; grinning ear to ear.

"Harmon Rabb, don't you dare!" Mac lunges a little, reaching for the box, but she doesn't have to try very hard. Knowing she would do this, Harm simply dispenses with the teasing. Placing the box in her hands, he watches her study it for a long moment.

Their crowd of guests moves nearer as Mac looks at the official government seal stamped on the surface of the box and the label that designates its contents as perishable. They all watch as Mac gives Harm a very odd look. "You had the White House send me something perishable?"

Harm moves to stand at her left side as Chegwidden removes a small envelope from his breast pocket and places it on top of the box.

Mac lets the box rest in Harm's upturned hands as she opens the envelope and scans the card inside.

Giving Harm a wide eyed look, Mac starts to palm the card so she can open the box but then she catches sight of Harriett. With her blue eyes dancing, and fingertips pressed to her lips, Mac's friend looks as if she's about to tip over with the strain of holding in her excitement. Mac passes her the card and chuckles as she squeaks with delight. Harriett reads the card to herself, squeaks a few more times, and then reads the card out loud for everyone's benefit.

_Dear Sarah,_

_We most happily honor former President and Mrs. Bartlett's request that we send you this gift from our garden along with our warm and heartfelt wishes for a glorious wedding day and a blessed marriage._

_Sincerely,_

_President and Mrs. Matthew Santos_

Mac waits for Harriet to settle. Nearly vibrating with excitement, she calms ever so slightly when she feels Bud's hand on her shoulder. She reaches up and gives her husband's hand a gentle squeeze as Mac opens the box.

The bridal bouquet inside the box is comprised of a variety of different roses in soft pinks, corals, and whites and it leaves Mac absolutely breathless. The rosebuds must've been picked before they were even open as many of them are only now beginning to unfurl their petals.

With the utmost care, Mac tenderly lifts the delicate bouquet from its box and displays it for all to see.

After a moment of oohs and aahs, in which Chloe is quietly snapping photographs, Varese asks, "Captain, exactly who do you have to know to get flowers straight from the White House rose garden for a bridal bouquet?"

Chegwidden answers, "I imagine it helps if you met your fiancée there."

Her eyes go wide. "You two met in the White House rose garden?" With a story like that who wouldn't honor such a request."

"There's more." Chegwidden lets them know; nodding toward the ice chest. Harm's request was only for the bridal bouquet. However, Helen Santos decided that was simply unacceptable. Rachel and I waited for more than two hours while she and 1/2 dozen White House staff members gathered and arranged corsages for the entire bridal party."

Still breathless, and as such, utterly speechless; Mac turns and smiles beautifully up at Harm. In response, he lowers his head for a tender kiss. The kiss is short lived though when Judge Dubose clears his throat and complains, "Not yet boy!" eliciting chuckles from everyone. At this point Laura takes it upon herself to announce "They do that all the time!" Quiet chuckles become outright laughter.

Another round of ohhs and ahhs goes up as Mac distributes the corsages. There's one for Harriet, Chloe, Jen, and Laura. Additionally, there are single buds for the groomsmen's lapels. Mac carefully removes a tiny bud from her own bouquet and places it gently in Jenny's hair; earning herself a bright smile from the toddler. At the same moment, Mac hands Harriet the single rosebud meant for Bud's lapel. "I'll let you do that." She tells her quietly. She herself places a rosebud in the Admiral's lapel, and also one in Jack Keeter's.

"Now, if you will excuse us, Harm and I really must change. We're running out of time."

Before Harm steps away to grab flashlights from the backpack he brought up with them earlier, Mac stops him with a gentle hand on his arm, and whispers. "I really didn't know for sure that Keeter would make it. That's part of the reason I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to be disappointed if he couldn't. Pull Bud aside. Ask him if he minds sharing the Best Man title. As far as I know, there's no law that says you can't have two."

Nodding quietly, Harm touches her face lovingly before he trots away.

With Trish and her bridal party following, garment bags in hand, Mac heads for the cave where she dried out, the same cave that once briefly held the Declaration of Independence, and in hopes of saving his life, Harm was temporarily held captive as her prisoner.

* * *

Author's note: I know Bill Clinton, or more likely his double, was featured on JAG at least once. However, for the purposes of this story, when Harm and Mac met; Josiah Bartlett from the West Wing was president. That series ended in 2006. If you aren't familiar with the show, It was stipulated that Matthew Santos was his successor. I hope this now explains cryptic comments made in middle portion of chapter 40.

* * *

**Chapter 48: In The Cave**

* * *

Author's Note: I know everybody's anxious for the wedding, and that was going to be next but even lying around doped up on pain meds after my injury, I keep seeing this in my mind. I apologize now if it's not the right blend of wacky and emotional all with the same time. Patience please; we're getting there. I promise.

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters. Now, on with the story!

* * *

Friday, August 31, 2007

2011 HRS

The cave is large and dark. While they choose not to wander too deeply into it, Harm and Mac opt for separate paths leading to different chambers within. While the chambers they chose make for rather rustic dressing rooms, the heavy duty flashlights Harm thought to bring alone dispel the darkness inside adequately.

Getting dressed with his back to Bud and Keeter he listens to the faint sounds of feminine laughter. His mother's makes him feel now the way it has always made him feel; content, safe, and loved. Jen's laughter is musical; Harriet's is bright and bubbly as always. Laura's laughter is the sound of untainted joy. Chloe's is full of youth and vitality. He knows how much Mac cherishes the girl. So, having her here feels nothing short of right. However, at the same time, her presence is a gentle vice around his heart. Seeing how she has changed so much in the years since he last saw her, and yet somehow, remained the same, serves as a bittersweet reminder that he will never see these changes, this sameness, in Mattie. Wishing, not for the first time today, that she were here, he breathes deeply; focusing intently on the basic need for oxygen to ease the lump in his throat and in doing so he stalls the buttoning of his shirt as he pinches the bridge of his nose in a fruitless attempt to hold back the tear that slides down his cheek. Because of his bitter carelessness after losing Mattie, he'd nearly lost the woman who's laughter is heard just in time to gently sooth his emotions before they can engulf him. Mac's laughter is a sweet and singular gift that outshines all the others.

He chuckles quietly thinking that at this moment, he might well be the cause for the merriment among these women. Part of him wants to run and join them; eager to hear more than just their faint laughter. Part of him could stay right here, listening forever, while still another part of him is mildly trepidatious about whatever it is that amuses them. He takes one step closer to the pathway between the two chambers of the cave. Curiosity beckons in a come hither fashion as he wonders exactly what women discuss while dressing a bride.

Meanwhile, Mac hurriedly steps out of one dress as her bridal party discusses how best to get her into the other.

"It's going over my head. I'm not letting that dress touch the floor of this cave so I can step into it." Mac attempts to end the discussion.

"You'll mess up your hair." Chloe objects. "Besides, you can have it cleaned afterwards."

"If she messes up her hair, we'll fix it for her." Trish says simply. "I'm just glad it's not a traditional wedding gown that weighs thirty pounds and has to go over her head backwards and then be turned around in order to get it on her properly."

Chloe, Laura, and even Jen, make faces in evident confusion as Harriet nods her head. "Try holding one of those dresses up over the bride's head without wrinkling it. Once you get the skirt situated, then you have to turn the thing around with her in it. After that, you have to button her up. Then, you spend time getting the skirt to drape just right. You fuss with the bustle and the train. We'd never manage to get Mac dressed out here if she were the more typical bride."

"If Mac were the more typical bride" Trish comments happily. "I don't think we'd be standing in a cave, moments before sunset, in the desert. I certainly wouldn't be wondering if there are bats in this cave, and if there are, what time they come out to feed."

Lifting her arms over her head as the dress goes on; Mac chuckles wryly. "Yes there are bats in here. They'll be coming out shortly and they won't bother you if you don't bother them."

"Are there really?" Laura asks with excitement and wonder as Trish adopts a slightly uncomfortable posture.

"There really are, but with all the noise we're making, they aren't likely to come out until after we leave the cave. The helicopter probably has them all sufficiently spooked. They may not come out until after we leave the mesa."

"Well, that will be just fine with me." Trish declares.

Jen laughs a bit nervously herself. "They'd make a great addition to a Halloween wedding. Instead of goats, you could have bats."

Chloe's giggles. "Make it a theme wedding. Come dressed as Morticia Addams, Lily Munster, Elvira, or the bride of Frankenstein."

Mac laughs as Trish works the clasp at the back of her waist and Harriett tends to her skirt. "Morticia and Lily were okay but Gomez was revolting, and Herman… that poor guy was Frankenstein meets Planet of the Apes. He was a lovable oaf, but he definitely dragged his knuckles when he walked. I'd never live Elvira down. No self-respecting Marine would ever dress that way in public, and the bride of Frankenstein would scare away the groom.

Taking Mac gently by the shoulders, turning her around, and adjusting shoulder straps, Trish assures "I don't think even that would scare my son away… Although, if you're wrong about them staying put and the bats do come out, you just might have to have this wedding without me. The closest I want to get to any winged creatures is right here, standing next to you, and whatever it is you have tattooed on your hip."

"It's on your hip?" Harriet inquires. "Bud is, not so secretly, going to be disappointed, at least if I tell him. He's had the good sense not to say so, but I know he assumed it was elsewhere."

Mac laughs merrily. "I shouldn't be surprised, so did Harm." In response to confused looks on the faces of her friends, Mac clarifies "He assumed it was elsewhere."

"It has wings?" Jen wants to know."

Both Mac and Trish nod as Trish supplies, "That's all I could see. Her skivvies are in the way."

"Thank goodness!" Mac exhales with relief.

"What's the point of having a tattoo if you don't want people to look at it? Chloe inquires. "I might get one. I haven't decided for sure yet."

Mac shutters. "I wish you wouldn't. They're permanent; or at least very nearly permanent. The only way to get rid of a tattoo is to either go through that expensive and painful laser removal, or cover it with another one; which technically isn't really getting rid of it. Once you get them you're likely stuck with them; even after you outgrow them. But Chloe you're old enough to decide for yourself. If you give it serious thought, and you decide you do want to do it, let me know. I want to go with you. I want to make sure you pick a reputable place with a good artist who is safety and hygiene conscious. If you have to get one, make it something meaningful. And no matter what you do, never tattoo anyone's name on your body; unless they are the names of your children. Once you are somebody's parent, you'll always be a parent. That's forever; even if the child dies. Romantic relationships can come and they can go. If they do go, and you've unwisely tattooed that person's name on your body, not only are you stuck with it, but you'll cringe every time you see it. I thank God every morning when I get dressed that even 18 and drunk I didn't tattoo Christopher Ragel's name on my hip. He wanted me to. I objected, because it felt like his way of branding me. Don't brand yourself for anyone Chloe. Promise me! You are not somebody's possession, and anyone who wants to treat you like you are one isn't worth having."

Chloe's smiles and rolls her eyes. "You don't really think I'd let some guy treat me like cattle; do you?"

"Make sure you don't. Be smarter than me. It took me a long time to figure this out but, find yourself someone who listens; even to the things you don't say. If he listens to you, even when he doesn't agree with you; then he's probably a keeper."

"Did Christopher like the one you did get?"

"He didn't understand it. It wasn't meaningful to him." Mac says while stepping into her shoes.

"Okay, so it's got wings. What is it; the eagle from the Marine Corps emblem?"

"No. The tattoo came before the Corps; before I even thought about joining. It's a phoenix - the mythical bird - reborn from its own ashes. Its new wings are outstretched. There's a tear in its eye, and only one talon is fully formed; the other's still part of the ashes."

"Sounds like Fawkes." Laura giggles while Trish eyes Mac with quiet understanding.

Moving to offer her a hug, Mac explains. "Laura, baby, this phoenix has been on my hip since long before Harry Potter was ever dreamt about."

Harriett comments, "I'm too chicken to tattoo anything on my body. The truth is I think most of them are tacky, but every once in awhile I see a truly pretty one. I also can understand why that one would be meaningful to you. I guess if you have to have a tattoo; that one wouldn't be a bad one to have… But the real question" Harriet smiles brightly. "Is what does Harm think about it?"

"He hasn't said a word about it." Mac smiles; attempting to dismiss the subject and turns her attention back to Trish. "How's my face? My makeup is probably shot. If I'd known I was going to be doing this today I would've opted for waterproof mascara."

"Your face is beautiful dear, and it'll stay that way as long as you don't cry anymore."

Chloe chimes in. "Her face is beautiful even when she cries; even puffy she's still pretty. Harm won't care, but I find it hard to believe he has no opinion about the tattoo."

Silently, Mac recalls the first time he saw it; the tender way he touched it, even kissed it, the raw emotion in his eyes. She thinks about the way his hand, whether they are clothed or not, always seems to find its way to her hip whenever they are alone together. She offers Chloe a playful smile. "I didn't say he doesn't have an opinion about it. I said he hasn't expressed it verbally."

"Ohh.." Chloe says as if she's waiting for a juicy secret to be revealed.

"I have nothing more to say about this little sister." Mac declares with affection for the girl. "Don't you dare to go ask him about it either! You'll embarrass him if you do. His opinion and the response that came with it were rather intimate; and the details are none of your business."

"I have a hard time picturing Harm being embarrassed about much of anything."

Mac chuckles. Regardless of what you can or can't imagine, I meant what I said. There's a boundary there Chloe. Please don't cross it."

"Hey I gave up making shockingly inappropriate speeches and asking embarrassing questions before I was eleven thanks to you."

Mac lightly kisses her cheek. "I'm just making sure you don't relapse."

Laughter bubbles out of Harriet. "Jen you should've seen the look on the Captain's face. What was it, nine years ago, 10 year old Chloe walks into the bullpen at HQ and tells anyone who is listening that she's Mac's daughter. The look on his face was priceless. 'Uh gee Mac, did you forget to mention something?"

Laughing, Mac drapes an arm around Chloe shoulders. "That was one of her least shocking announcements that day as I recall."

"Ugh!" Chloe groans dismally. "Can we please talk about something else? I was such a spaz; hiding out on top of the elevator!"

"We need to get going anyway." Mac says, turning to leave the cave.

"We can't!" Chloe objects. Not yet. What about something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue?"

Smiling, Mac shakes her head. "Chloe, I don't really need all that."

"Yes you do."

"Really? Why?"

"Because you're getting married. That's what brides do."

Mac looks around at the expectant faces of the women with her. Rolling her eyes, she gives in. "It's going to take less time if I go along with you all; isn't it?"

"I'd say that's a pretty safe bet Colonel." Jen chuckles

"Alright, fine; but quickly." She smiles warmly at Trish. I think my engagement ring counts as something old."

"Indeed it does" the older woman returns her smile. I have your borrowed and your blue too. All you need now is something new."

Trish's smile leaves the younger women reaching for pockets they don't have and searching handbags until Jen steps forward with a bright shiny silver dollar.

"It's brand new Ma'am; this year's mint. Some people say it's good luck for the bride to place one in her shoe."

Smiling in thanks, Mac takes the silver dollar. "That's nice Jen, I hope you don't mind, but I'm not walking around with this in my shoe. That could get really uncomfortable out here."

"Just tuck it in your bra darling." Trish waves dismissively. We won't tell anyone." She promises; inciting furtive giggles all around.

Following her suggestion, Mac carefully deposits the gleaming coin between peach colored lace and warm flesh. After checking to make certain the corn's presence isn't detectable, Mac hugs Harriett, Jen, Chloe, and Laura in rapid succession. "Check discreetly to make sure the guys are ready and then ask the Admiral to head this way. I'll meet him outside. Once they're gone." Mac takes a deep breath and faces Trish once more.

Stepping close, Trish removes the gold filigree and emerald brooch pinned over her heart. Opening a tiny clasp, she reveals the fact that the pendant doubles as a locket. Nestled inside on the left Mac finds a small photograph of Harm's father, on the right, a photo of Mattie.

"Harm already knows what's in here. I was going to wear it today for him, but I think it might mean even more to him if you wear it."

Mac stands perfectly still and wrestles with her emotions while gazing over Trish's shoulder as she carefully secures the brooch; mindful of the delicate lace that sheathes Mac's dress. When that is done and Trish starts to step away Mac stops her with a gentle hand on her arm.

Sensing something important; Trish waits patiently while Mac struggles for words. Several silent seconds tick by before the Marine shakes her head and shrugs, "Thank you seems so inadequate." She whispers.

"Darling it's just a couple of pictures."

Mac shakes her head. "Oh no it's not! The brooch alone is more than I ever expected. You, you and Frank, you have both gone out of your way to help make this happen. I never expected anyone to be so supportive."

"I don't know why not. Parents are supposed to be supportive when their children fall in love and decide to marry."

Mac shrugs. "I guess I'm just not use to it. Experience has taught me that I don't fare well with moms. Christopher's mother blamed me for the choices he made. Mic's mom was completely apathetic. She wouldn't even get on an airplane to come and meet me, and Mrs. Webb… well, her precious boy deserved so much better than me, at least in her mind. She never said that, but she made sure I knew it; and well, I couldn't even talk my own into showing up. I admit, I hoped that you and I would get along better, but I never expected a welcome like this. I'm more grateful that I know how to say and honestly, I'm mildly uncomfortable with it. I'm out of my depth here. I'm not at all sure what to do with it."

"Well." Trish pats her shoulders and wrestles with the desire to hug her. "Just love him. That's all the thanks I really need. After knowing him for eleven years, you don't need me to tell you he's going to get on your nerves and make you a little crazy sometimes, but if you can love him anyway… I promise I'll try not to overwhelm you." Trish hands her a small box that contains the delicate item that meets the requirement of something blue." I recall you saying that you wanted to find an unobtrusive way to add a little Navy blue to your attire. I thought this might be just the thing."

Opening the box and lifting out navy blue satin fringed with white lace on a soft elastic band Mac smiles at the letters in gold piping; USN. "It's perfect." she declares. "He'll get a kick out of this!"

Stepping away, Trish smiles; "I'll go hurry him along, if he's not out there already… and Mac… It's time for you to stop carrying around the notion that you don't fare well with mothers. Did it ever occur to you that the problem doesn't lay with you, but with them?"

Trish is gone before Mac can reply. Seconds later she stands at the entryway of another nearby chamber within the cave and watches her son fidget with his gold cummerbund. Folding her arms over her chest she orders quietly and with maternal pride, "Stop fussing. You already look entirely too handsome."

Harm flashes his smile but otherwise doesn't acknowledge the compliment. "Is she out there already? That's fast; even for Mac."

"Not quite yet, but if you want out of here first, then it's time we were going darling. I left her fussing over a last minute wardrobe addition."

Harm raises a curious eyebrow but otherwise, again, doesn't acknowledge the comment. How's she doing? Is she nervous? She's not about to bolt is she Mom? Do I need to go talk to her?"

Trish chuckles and shakes her head when he starts in Mac's direction without waiting for an answer. "Harm, she's fine, and nervous it isn't the word I would use to describe her current condition. She's happy and she's relatively calm… for a woman who's completely overwhelmed. She's trying desperately not to show it though."

Harm nods at the last statement but asks, "Overwhelmed? Why?"

"She thinks we've all gone out of our way. Although I expect that's not really the problem. The problem is she's not used to people going out of their way for her and therefore she somehow thinks she doesn't deserve it."

He nods again. "She's better than she used to be. There was a time you couldn't even pay her a compliment. If you tried, she would push it away; even run from it. That's why I asked you if she was about to bolt."

"Where's she going to go? Unless she's got climbing gear stashed somewhere…"

"I wouldn't put it passed her. She's very fond of telling me that Marines are always ready… for anything."

Trish shakes her head. "She's not going to bail on you. She wants this too much to do that now." Trish straightens the lapels on his jacket and offers him her arm. Leaving the cave she says, "Somebody needs to be taken out and shot for the damage that was done to her. We're going to have to find a balance. Somebody needs to spoil her a bit, but not so much as to make her repel down the side of Red Rock Mesa in escape."

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Author's note: Those of you who publish here will know what I'm talking about when I say that the document manager only allows us to maintain 50 installments (either chapters or individual stories at a time). Including the compiled edition of this story's predecessor I have now reached number 49. I am not absolutely certain I can complete this story with only one more chapter. Right now, it's 0144 (Yes, the pain medication I'm currently taking in the aftermath of my injury has my sleep schedule all out of whack!)

For my own convenience, I would like to keep the entire story in the document manager until it is complete. Therefore, tomorrow or actually later today, when I am a little more clearheaded than I am at the moment; I will most likely edit the format of the story in a way that will allow me to keep the entire story in the document manager. Those of you who have subscribed to notifications regarding updates for this story may get several within the course of this day. Although I may do some light editing, rest assured, I will not change the overall content of the story. You need not reread the whole story; unless of course you actually want to.

I'm about one hour and forty-five minutes too late with this but, Merry Christmas all the same! In the words of a favorite Christmas carol, I send you all tidings of comfort and joy!

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**Chapter 49: What God Has Joined Together**

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Author's Note: Absolutely no one has commented on chapter 48, titled In the Cave. Are you guys too full of Christmas turkey and pecan pie to type, or was it really that bad?

Disclaimer: I don't own JAG, or its characters. Now, on with the story!

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Friday, August 31, 2007

2021 HRS

Leaving the cave, moments before sunset, Mac happily takes the arm that's offered her and breathes deeply as she offers A.J. Chegwidden a smile as close to serene she can manage. He stands straight and tall beside her and gives the hand at his elbow a slightly brusque pat. There's the faintest hint of emotion in his usually gruff voice when he quietly says, "Your breathtaking Sarah."

In response, she stands a little straighter and breathes a hushed "Thank you Sir." as Harriett, Jen, and Laura approach but remain a few steps ahead of them.

"Leave it to you two; you finally decide to get out of your own way and now all of a sudden you're in a big damn hurry." Chegwidden grouses. "Is there some specific place I'm supposed to take you to?"

Momentarily at a loss, Mac eyes him with uncertainty.

"It's not like we had a rehearsal."

Mac smiles confidently when the penny drops. "We didn't discuss it Admiral, but I'm certain he's somewhere along the western edge; near the spot where we had dinner."

"Yes, he is." Jen whispers. "But, if you didn't talk about it, how do you know that?"

"It's where I would choose to be." Mac replies simply.

"You're assuming Rabb knows that."

"Yes sir, he knows. He knew I wasn't merely joking about the goats. He knows this too."

Laura smiles back at her aunt and Mac offers her a warm smile before motioning for her to stand eyes forward.

There's another moment of uncertainty before Chegwidden surrenders to the impulse to ask, "How the hell are we supposed to know when they're ready? At some point, at least in most weddings, the Wedding March starts to play. It's as much a cue as anything else."

In response, Mac shrugs and simply waits. She knows he's ready ½ second before she hears the vaguely familiar instrumental version of a sweet melody fill the air.

She smiles beautifully at her escort. "You were asking for a cue, Sir." she whispers as Varese begin to sing.

_I set out on a narrow way, many years ago_

_Hoping I would find my love along the broken road…._

They hear a quiet squeak of happiness escape Harriett the instant before she squares her shoulders and begins her walk; head held high.

_But I got lost a time or two__  
__Wiped my brow and kept pushing through__  
__I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you._

"Okay, maybe he did think of everything. I confess Mac, I thought you'd taken a blow to the head when Coates told me he was the one doing most of the wedding planning."

Mac watches the four females she's closest to in life as they precede her around the side of the cave and slowly disappear from view. She whispers, "He waited for this a long time. I knew he'd get it right." Purely on instinct, she counts slowly to four in her head and asks, "Shall we." just as the Admiral takes his first step.

_Every long lost dream led me to where you are__  
__Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars__  
__Pointing me on my way into your loving arms__  
__This much I know is true, that God blessed the broken road__  
__That led me straight to you._

As they step into view of her small wedding party, Mac is aware of so many things all at once; the setting sun and the glorious view beyond the mesa. Sweet, effervescent, Chloe quietly snapping photos as not one, but two, judges stand at the ready. There are warm smiles from friends and family, and Laura's happy eyes. Rachel McGraille does glance her way briefly but, it's not unnoticed by Mac that the woman's only true interest is for the man beside her. She wonders if it's love and dares to steal a glance at the Admiral. If he registers Rachel's intense gaze, it's not visible in his countenance. Mac makes eye contact with Trish. To Mac, she seems the very picture of poise and grace in spite of the fact that she is on the verge of tears. This observation pushes Mac just a little closer to the brink herself. Frank stands holding his wife's hand, whispering something in her ear and just as Mac swallows against the knot of emotion rising inside, she hears Chegwidden's calm, easy, murmur. "Steady Marine."

To one side of the small gathering young Jimmy is making silly faces, trying desperately - and to no avail, to make his older brother laugh. Little A.J. does his very best to ignore his younger brother until Sturgis places a silent but firm hand on Jimmy's slender shoulder. When the five year old boy glances up at him, he shakes his head sternly but Mac can see the barely concealed laughter in the man's eyes, and the tremendous weight of her own emotion eases a bit. Somewhat relieved to have his younger brother's attempts at calamity thwarted and wearing a very serious expression, young A.J. stands straight and proud beside his father. Bud's kind eyes and round face tell of a happiness that is only outdone by his wife's perpetual glow

_I think about the years I've spent, just passing through__  
__I'd like to have the time I lost, and give it back to you__  
__But you just smile and take my hand__  
__You've been there, you understand__  
__It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true._

Jack Keeter wears a somewhat rakish expression when he smiles at her. Mac laughs inwardly; the man is a hopeless flirt and she has no doubt he will end up in divorce court at some point in his future but she imagines he'll have a lot of fun getting there. Skates and Judge Dubose's wife, Maggie, each hold the hand of a smiling, squirming, Roberts' toddler

_Every long lost dream led me to where you are__  
__Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars__  
__Pointing me on my way into your loving arms__  
__This much I know is true that God blessed the broken road__  
__That led me straight to you._

When Mac allows her eyes to finally come to rest on Harm's the unfettered emotion she finds there in their shining depths nearly halts her for one flicker in time and in the next it takes every ounce of self-restraint she possesses not to close the remaining distance between them at a run.

Despite the tell-tale hint of moisture at the corner of his eyes, he looks calm; tall and beautiful and calm. His gold wings are ablaze in the brilliance of the setting sun and she wonders if he feels half as dizzy or lightheaded as she does.

It isn't until he winks that she realizes she has stopped breathing. Determined not to reveal that she could forget something as simple, as intrinsic, as breathing; she forces herself to inhale slowly.

His smile tells her that he knows. Even if no one else does; he does. His gaze is a resolute and magnetic balm. It promises a warm embrace and gently calls her forward.

When they are near enough, Mac hands her bouquet over to Harriett with a warm smile. When the Admiral gently places her hand in Harm's everything and everyone else simply fades into the middle distance - where both Harm and Mac are only vaguely aware of them.

As Varese brings her song to a magnificent finish, they become one; two halves of the same whole standing on top of a rock that is hundreds of years old in the middle of the desert. For them, their union is complete in the first moment their hands touch. The wedding ceremony that follows is not really for either of them. It is nothing more than formality for their loved ones who have made the eleven year journey to witness and celebrate this occasion.

_Now I'm just rolling home into my lover's arms_

_This much I know is true__  
__That God blessed the broken road__  
__That led me straight to you._

"Hi." She whispers bringing a barely audible chuckle from him.

He's unable to ignore the realization that this was the very first thing she'd said to him a little less than two weeks ago; her first spoken word for him in more than two years. Despite the fact that she saw him last less than fifteen minutes ago, there is no less emotion in the word now than there was then. Today it is even more of a gift than it was then.

"Hi!" he whispers back; giving her hands a tender squeeze.

They stand, lost in each other, lending only enough attention to the two judges to get through the ceremony; although an occasional heavy pause is inserted here or there while the judge's, who are taking turns speaking, wait for their appropriate responses.

Judge Kerrigan starts. "We have gathered here tonight in the presence of God to witness the joining together of Harm and Sarah in the bond of marriage. The marriage of two people committed to one another was established by God, the father, and it is commanded in the scripture to be held in honor by all people. It is both, one of our greatest blessings and one of our most awesome responsibilities. Marriage is not to be entered into lightly, but solemnly and deliberately and in reverence of God." She pauses a moment before adding, "At this time we invite you to join together in a moment of silence so that this marriage may be blessed."

Prior to closing his own eyes to ask for the strength in the patience to get this right, Harm watches her smile up at him the instant before she closes her eyes and makes her own silent request for peace and understanding between them. When the moment ends, the caress of his hand against her cheek brings another smile to her lips and she opens her dark eyes to find his blue eyes slightly misty and shining down at her.

As Wayne Dubose asks, "Who is here to give this woman away." She pokes Harm gently on the chest as she whispers for his ears only, "Don't you dare cry flyboy. If you do, I'll cry too. Marines aren't supposed to do that."

Harm takes hold of the hand she poked him with once more and gently brings it to his lips for a soft kiss as A.J. Chegwidden answers, "I'm just his courier, and her escort. She gives herself to him freely."

Caught pleasantly unaware of what his answer would be, Mac smiles at him with heartfelt gratitude and mouths "Thank you." before he nods once and then moves to stand with the others.

Judge Kerrigan continues. "A marriage is not only the joining together of two individuals, it is also a joining of families. The care, support, and nurturing which have been extended to Harm and Mac by their families and friends is as important now as it has ever been. The people they share their lives with need to be committed to support each of them in this marriage. Frank and Trish, you are not losing a son but rather you are gaining a daughter. Will you promise to love and encourage Sarah just as you have with Harm?"

When they both answer respectively with "Yes" and "With pleasure." Mac bites down hard on her lower lip to dam the flow of happy tears threatening to spill and in very short order she finds herself wrapped gently in his arms.

"Well, I'd tell you two to join hands." Judge Dubose declares. "But that would require you both to let go of each other first."

In response, Mac tightens her arms around his back and without lifting it from his shoulder, she shakes her head. Harm throws his own back and laughs before lowering it and dropping a tender kiss on the crown of her head. "Not gonna happen Judge. It takes her a while to let go. Carry on."

"I will, but you're not supposed to kiss her yet boy."

The laughter of their friends and family rises and floats on the breeze but before either judge can continue, a high pitched cry is heard from the sky above and they all glance toward the horizon.

Several exclamations are heard ranging from "Oh look!" from Harriet to "What the…" from Keeter whose expletive is pre-empted by Bud's quick elbow jab to his ribs.

"Oh Harm, they're back! Mac says happily; her eyes shining, she gazes heavenward at the two hawks they had watched earlier.

With want of understanding, all eyes turn to Mac, and it's Harm who answers. "They were here while we ate dinner. We watched them play together. I guess they're mates."

Harm feels Mac shake her head once more against his shoulder and he returns his eyes to her.

"Those two aren't mates." She offers with quiet certainty.

Chegwidden clarifies. "Mac's right. The larger one is male but he's significantly older than the female. She wouldn't have chosen him as a mate, but for whatever reason, they fly together."

Without taking her eyes from the sky, it's Laura who answers quietly and with the absence of doubt. "That's because they're not really birds."

"What do you mean baby?" Mac inquires, gazing at Laura briefly; a puzzled expression on her face.

"They're really people who just look like birds today. Can't you see them Aunt Mac?" A calm certainty emanates from the girl that reminds Mac sweetly of her atypical Iranian grandmother.

Mac searches the faces of their guests. Charmed by what they assume is her innocence, they smile at her patiently as if she is playing an ill-timed game. However, Mac suspects there is more to it. She thinks fleetingly of her nearly flawless ability to tell time without a watch and of the visions and dreams she's had before she admits, "I can only see two hawks baby. Tell me what you see? Two people? What do they look like?"

Still watching the winged creatures dive and soar, Laura concentrates quietly for a moment before answering her aunt. "They're both happy. One is a tall old man with a mustache. The other is a girl with lots of brown hair. She's big like Chloe, not little like me."

An understanding Mac won't dare to argue with floods her consciousness as the weakening dam holding her emotions in check cracks and two tears slip from her eyelashes; catching Harm faintly by surprise as he thinks their timing a little odd. He's not certain why this should be the moment the tears brimming in her eyes should finally fall.

"They should be looking for dinner right about now. They picked a fine time to crash a wedding!" The former Seal grouses.

Mac chuckles softly and wipes away her tears with Harm's help. "They aren't wedding crashers Sir."

Only half aware of her actions, Mac caresses the borrowed brooch pinned over her heart, inadvertently drawing Harm's attention to it. Two more tears fall, but this time they aren't hers. Indirectly, she gives voice to her understanding for Harm's benefit while answering the Admiral.

"They're wedding guests who couldn't be reached in any of the usual ways. Looks like they got my invitation anyhow."

Caressing her cheek; in a voice thick with emotion and audible only to her, Harm whispers. "I love you."

She nods. "Love you too." is her hushed reply. Then louder, so others can hear, "So what do you say we wrap this up."

He smiles that smile she loves and turns his attention back to their officiates briefly.

"Yes, yes. Where were we? Aw, Yes." the judge's resume their two part rhythm as Judge Dubose begins again.

"Harm, do you take this woman you hold, come whatever may, to be your lawful wedded wife; and do you promise before God and man to love, honor, and protect her through sunshine and shadow alike; keeping yourself unto her alone until death do you part?"

"I do." he promises.

"Sarah, do you take this man you hold, come whatever may, to be your lawful wedded husband and do you promise before God and man to love, honor, and protect him through sunshine and shadow alike; keeping yourself unto him alone until death do you part?"

"I do." she promises.

Judge Kerrigan speaks once more. "You have chosen to seal you vows by the giving and receiving of rings. The ring forms a perfect circle, without a beginning or an end, and is thereby a symbol of eternity and signifies the duration of the commitment you are making. The gold of which the rings are made signifies the purity and value of the relationship into which you enter. Let us now exchange these rings.

Having paid very close attention, which earns him a bright smile from his mother; A.J. Roberts steps forward, eager to do his part. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket he extracts two rings and quietly hands them to his uncle. As A.J. steps back to his place beside his father, Harm reaches out and pats the boy's shoulder in thanks before he hands the larger of the two rings to Mac.

Harm, Sarah, you have the privilege of placing this ring on your sweetheart's finger in virtue of the exclusive covenant into which you now enter. If you will both, please, repeat after me."

With emotions rising to the surface yet again, they find themselves lost once more in each other and only half aware of the people around them but somehow they manage to take turns. "I give you this ring, as a symbol of my love, and with all that I am, and with all that I have, I will honor you." Steady hands triumph despite racing hearts and the golden bands slide into place naturally.

As the last rays of sunlight slowly begin to vanish their lips brush until Laura's favorite judge objects noisily. "Not yet! If you too can hold your horses for just two more seconds…."

"And now, by the authority invested in us, and in accordance with the laws of the States of California and Arizona, we now pronounce you man and wife." The judges grin at each other; pausing for affect. Now… you may kiss your bride."

Already nestled in each other's arms, the kiss begins before the two judges are through speaking. People cheer, laugh, and cry. Some of them even manage to do all three at once. After several long seconds when the sweet kiss still hasn't broken, Judge Dubose chuckles and whispers to his cohort, "You think we'll get to make the formal introduction before it's officially dark out here?"

"You might better do it now if that's your goal." Dana Kerrigan whispers; happily eyeing the couple.

"It is my pleasure to introduce to you, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Harmon Rabb."

The newlyweds continue to ignore the clapping and cheering of their guests and all the while Chloe is capturing photographs of the bride and groom a world apart from the rest of them, embracing each other passionately less than two feet from the edge of Red Rock Mesa; his gold wings and her aunt's wedding dress shimmering brilliantly in the fading sunset, as overhead, the female hawk cries sweetly and the male expands his wings to their full width and soars high.


End file.
